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Then he’ll make me his whore like he told my grandfather.
My grandfather.
Is he…?
Even though I know deep down what the horrible answer is, I ask, “My grandfather?”
“Dead.”
The word slashes through my entire being.
My breaths come fast, my breaking heart rattling in my chest.
They killed my family.
I’m all alone.
I suck in a painful breath that’s choked by a sob forcing its way out of me.
Viktor reaches a hand out to me, and without thinking, I slap it away. Everything in me spirals out of control until there’s only violent turmoil.
My body reacts on its own, and darting forward, I slam my fists against Viktor’s chest. I hear a scream filled with equal parts of horror and sorrow.
I keep hitting his chest until he grabs hold of my wrists, and my body is spun around. He forcefully crosses my arms over my chest and locks them in place with his much stronger ones. His foot swipes mine from under me, and I’m taken down to the floor. My butt hits the wood so hard, it makes me hiccup.
I let out a hopeless scream, and it morphs into uncontrollable sobs as grief drags me into a bottomless pit of despair.
Sitting between Viktor’s legs, his arms are wrapped around me, my back pressed to his solid chest.
“Shh…” he tries to soothe me, but the sound only sends icy shivers rushing over my feverish body.
The horrible events of the day flash through my mind. Uncle Ricco’s throat being sliced. My grandfather threatening and begging.
Viktor licking my tear and saying I'll become his whore.
Viktor strangling me.
I wish I didn’t have to face a second of this life without my family.
God, I wish they killed me first.
But they didn’t, and now I have to face the nightmarish fact I’ve been captured by the head of the bratva, and he can do whatever he wants to me.
My body slumps in his hold until the back of my head rests against his shoulder. Through blurry vision, I stare at the window, thinking the first chance I get, I’ll jump.
“You will be safe here,” Viktor says again.
I let out a burst of air filled with all the bitterness of what my life’s become. My voice is scratchy as I mutter, “Says the m-man who k-killed my family.”
Viktor loosens his hold on me, then I’m tugged to my feet. He turns me to face him, and our eyes lock. Where his are filled with the violence ingrained in his bones, mine must show the trauma and grief I’ve suffered at his hands.
His right hand moves from my shoulder to my cheek, where he captures a teardrop with the pad of his thumb. To my horror, I watch as he licks the drop from his skin.
With the full force of his intense black eyes on me, he murmurs, “So sweet.”
Dear God.
My gasps are so fast it sounds like I ran a marathon, and every muscle in my body aches from how tight they are.
