Page 64 of Captive

Dimitri issued a volley of hard punches himself, stopping short then running his fingers through his hair.

The pain was almost blinding, but I refused to react.

He laughed as he rubbed his jaw, but it was easy to send his growing frustration. “Chertovski bespoleznaya svin’ya.”

Fucking worthless pig. The words meant nothing to me.

“While I do not doubt your hatred of your brother, there is no way you do not know his whereabouts.”

I found it more difficult to breathe, every muscle in my body aching. There was no doubt my ribs were cracked. There was nothing for me to say. Mentioning Chloe would only put her in further danger. I had to get the fuck out of the chains.

“Especially given the fact he was the one who killed your father.” He allowed the words to linger, his eyes twinkling.

What the hell was the fucker getting at? I’d learned a long time ago never to react, including to words meant to pull me out of my training. Today was no different, but my mind was already searching for any signs what the bastard had told me was the truth. I kept a grin on my face, laughing softly even as the agony rolled in waves.

He seemed perplexed that I said nothing, shaking his head before glaring at me. “I will say, the images of your father’s crucified body were thrilling, especially to my father. It was good to have your brother under our thumb.”

Whether or not I showed any kind of reaction didn’t seem to matter to the brutal man.

“What?” he asked, laughing gregariously after issuing the single word. “Did you not think your brother was capable of such a heinous deed? What he told me over several drinks was all about how much he loathed his father. I think slitting your father’s neck with a hunting knife created a great satisfaction. Of course, he underestimated just how powerful you’d become.” He inched closer, giving me another disapproving gaze. “Then you ran off like a scared little puppy.”

“Then what the fuck do you care about him?”

“Because my father doesn’t want anyone left from your family.”

His words did little but piss me off, but they offered a glimpse into the reason behind the hunt on American soil. The Petrovs were terrified I’d resume control. I offered a wry grin in replacement of acknowledging his bullshit remarks. I doubted this was about my brother at all. Dimitri just wanted to enjoy torturing me.

Dimitri took a deep breath, then motioned to his men. “Do what’s necessary.”

As they approached, at least two of them with metal pipes, I shifted my mind into another location, using the training my father had insisted on to block out a portion of the pain.

But the memories that surfaced were ones better left in the darkness.

One in particular I’d locked inside a black box until now.

Until the pain became too much to bear.

“You allowed that bastard child to come into our home, Father. He’s not worthy to bear our name,” Michail snarled as he confronted our father.

I stood on the outside of the door, listening to the conversation. I’d been made aware of certain rumors, some indicating Michail had betrayed the family. The truth had to be found.

“Sacha is a natural born leader, which isn’t what I can say about you. He’s a warrior, a loyal fighter in our beloved Bratva. He will be Pakhan one day when I am gone.” My father turned away.

I was able to catch the look on Michail’s face, the pain that he’d learned to mask so well. When I heard a slight sob pushing up from his chest, I held back a hiss. I’d known my father was a brutal, often uncaring man from the day I’d been brought into his house, but this surprised even me.

“Then trust me, Papa, you might get your wish sooner versus later. After that, I’ll be the one to take the rightful place as Pakhan. Mark my words.”

I slipped further into the shadows as Michail stormed toward the door.

“Rest assured, Michail, the truth will be told.”

The truth. What truth? I was nauseous, trying to remember anything else.

Thud!

Another blast of anguish yanked me back into the present, although the images remained vibrant. I’d forgotten all about the tumultuous meeting, one that had taken place only two weeks prior to the murder of my father. I’d been home for two nights, the visit cut short by my father’s need to handle business. Gasping, I blinked several times, fighting to remain conscious.

“Prekratit’!” Dimitri snapped. “Just stop,” he repeated. “This isn’t going anywhere. Bring the girl.”