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“I'm sure she disagrees with that.”
“Hey, you two!” Mateo called us. “Save the threats for another time, let's find Pietra.”
I pushed Marco's hand away from me and went closer to the other brother who seemed focused on finding her.
Chapter forty-eight
My eyes were still heavy, and I started coughing as I felt my throat scratchy. I wrapped my hands around my neck and tried to massage it, but it didn't stop hurting. I imagined it had something to do with the gas that had stolen my senses, but the environment I was in also seemed terribly dry.
I tried a little harder to open my eyes and realized I was on a piece of cardboard. In a small, stuffy room, the only light coming in was a glass window in the wooden door.
I kept coughing nonstop, no matter how hard I tried, it was still difficult to keep breathing calmly.
I heard the sound of the door being opened, and a silhouette advanced into the room, by reflex, I shrank even more against the wall and hugged my knees, I had to blink my eyes and it took a while for a face to form in front of me.
I didn't recognize him. He was a complete stranger, had dark eyes and hair and could have been one of my father's many enemies. The only thing I didn't expect was that I would end up being kidnapped inside my own home.
However, I was sure he wasn't an Italian when I didn't understand anything he said.
“I don't understand Russian well.” I had started studying, but it still seemed a long way from becoming fluent in the language.
“English?”
I nodded my head yes.
“How do you talk to Mikhail?”
“He speaks Italian.”
“I should have guessed.”
“Who are you?” I stuck my chest out and tried a slightly more threatening posture, even though I still looked like a cornered mouse.
“Andrei Vassiliev.”
“One of Mikhail's men?”
“I don't serve that bastard!” He clenched his teeth.
“An enemy, then.” It was easy to deduce.
“That bastard killed Igor.”
“His brother?” I frowned.
“That whore’s son had no right to call him brother.”
“It seems like this irritates you.”
“If it irritates me?”
I nodded.
“You don’t know how much.”
“I am really sorry about that.”
“Shut up, you bitch! You don't understand anything.”
