AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I shook my head, clinging to my rage, struggling to free my hands. “Fuck you, Artur.”
“He’s like any other man, sister. Once he gets bored of you, he’ll discard you and find another. There are virgins everywhere, and you know that pussy is your only value.”
My ears thumped with my blood, faster and faster with every word out of his mouth. Those were the words I’d been fed my entire life. They were Dad’s words, verbatim.
The only thing I had of value was what laid between my legs. My mind swirled, doubts festering, but an image formed in my head—Damien kneeling before me.
If the only thing he wanted was my pussy, why didn’t he fuck me that first night? Or the second? Why did he only sleep with me on our wedding night because I asked? Why did he avoid me forweeksbecause of my bruises, because he was afraid to hurt me?
“You’re a fucking liar, Artur,” I snarled in Russian, the language gratifying on my tongue, and slammed my forehead into his.
Holy—fuckthat hurt more than I was expecting. Stars burst across my vision but they only reminded me of the stars Damien made me see when we had sex, and I smiled through the pain.
“There’s something fucking wrong with you,” Artur sneered.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Probably something from my childhood.”
I wrenched at my hands, unprepared for him to release them suddenly. Momentum tore me off Artur. My shoulder hit the solid floor so violently I cried out, pain a fire down my arm. My head spun, the walls spinning like ballet dancers around me. I waited for punches, for kicks, but Artur stumbled to his feet, threw himself through the door and—
“No!” I yelled, scrambling up, my aching body slow to respond.
My poisonous brother slammed the door shut, and the damning sound of locks snapping into place made me flinch back. Three—three locks. And when I stumbled across the room to the single window, my shoulders slumped when I saw it was boarded up from the outside.
There was no other way out. I was trapped here. Artur planted a bomb somewhere else—I really didn’t want to think it was in our flat, but there was no other explanation. And Finch was on his way.
Anger drained from my blood, leaving me shaking, crying.
CHAPTER 13
DAMIEN
Shaking, barely able to see for the rage covering my vision in red, I left Eli and my brothers searching the dead for any sign of who’d employed them, and stormed outside. Dad was on the phone with the head of our security team, so I aimed around the building, my body moving with a detached grace, all my mental power put into not screaming and unleashing my rage on every car parked down the side of the building where we’d held our reception.
This was supposed to be safe, a celebration of our love and marriage, and I’dlosther.My fingers shook as I scrolled through my contacts, my movements too fast, too manic.
“Well, well,” a laughing voice gloated when he answered the call, “Look who’s finally remembered I exist.”
“Do not fuck with me right now, Lynch,” I growled, barely leashing my rage. I gasped for air, a more violent shudder rocking me. I didn’t feel the cold or the wind, didn’t hear the traffic from the road mere steps away. “What did you see?”
His answering laugh was low and wrong. There’d always been something insane about Niall Marshall, my uncle. The man was so twisted Dad didn’t let him anywhere near us. “Where?” he asked. “Your fancy wedding party or Marshall Manor?”
I froze. Ice spread through me, clashing with white-hot rage. “What happened at the manor?”
“Bomb took out the kitchen and the whole back corner of it. Shame—I always liked that house. I did think about killing Kavan at one point so I could live there myself, but that seemed like too much trouble.”
I ignored the threat to my dad and snarled, “The reception.Who took my wife?”
The Lynchpin was named accurately. Everything hinged on him; he was the deranged foundation our whole empire was built on top of. There was nothing Niall didn’t see, no secret he didn’t know; he was always watching.
“Lewis Knightley,” he replied instantly, proving me right. He’d probably had cameras in this place the second I paid the booking deposit. “Slimy little fucker, thinks he’s mafia because he has an Italian grandmother. New money heirs are always so smug.”
“We’re new money,” I pointed out, watching the car Jonathan dove behind the wheel of. The scent of smoke and explosives clung to the air, shoving down my throat the more I spoke. “Where did he go? And send me the footage.”
Knightley was one of Dad’s friends, and the blow of his betrayal would hit hard. Lewis had given no indication of being disloyal, but a person could betray their own mother for enough money. I should have kept this event exclusively to family. He’d never have had an opportunity to take Vasya.
“I’m still tracking where the car went. I might have found the damn thing already if I didn’t havethreesets of bastards to find—the manor bombers, the team who blew up your party, and Knightley.”
“What’s that?” he asked when I said nothing, striding past Dad on the front steps. Most guests already left but some hovered, speaking to police—an inevitable result of a very public explosion. Terrorism would have to be ruled out. I’d be expected to answer their questions at some point, but fuck that until I had Vasilisa back.
