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Istare at Mikhail, horrified. My mouth opens, but I can’t think of what to say.
I’d known my father wasn’t a good man. I’d never thought otherwise. I knew he hurt people, manipulated them. There was nothing I could do about it that I could see. In our world, the world of Bratva men, women had very little power. I’d put myself far out on the line for Sasha, to rescue her.
Even now, with everything that’s happened since, I wouldn’t change it. It was worth anything to keep my sister safe.
I was willing to let my father die, to kill him myself even, if I’d had to, in order to get her free and keep her safe–and she hadn’t undergone half of what Mikhail’s sister did.
“I understand,” I whisper. “I can’t say what you’ve done is right–but my father hurt my sister too. My half-sister. Not the way he hurt yours, but that’s why I let him be killed. To get her free. If he’d–”
“I don’t want your pity!” Mikhail snarls at me, jerking my head back as his hand tightens on my neck. “I want my fucking family back.” His teeth are clenched, the words spitting out from between them, and I can feel how angry he is.
I can understand it. It all makes sense now. It was never my fault–but I can see where the urge came from.
“I get why you’re doing this,” I whisper. “My father is dead, so you needed someone else to take it out on. You needed a way to feel like someone paid for it. You needed–”
“Revenge.” Mikhail hisses the word, his face twisting, very close to mine. “I wanted to take it out on you, Natalia. I wanted to make you feel all the pain that they did.”
His other hand touches my bare waist, sliding down to my hip, and I feel the shudder that goes through him. “Somewhere along the way,” he murmurs, “I forgot. I got caught up in your spell. But maybe I should be glad that you looked through my things, that you took that picture–because now I remember.”
He tilts his head sideways, his lips close to mine, and I can feel the warmth of his skin, his breath, against me. “I seduced you,” he whispers, leaning in closer. He’s almost touching me, bare and bloodied skin to mine, and I try uselessly to repress the shudder that goes through me, the mingling of fear and desire. “I did all of that–everything at the club, all those dates, bringing you here–because I knew the sweetest revenge would be to make you trust me, and then break you to pieces.”
His hand slips around me, to the nightstand, and I hear thesnickof a knife opening as he withdraws it. “And now,” he murmurs, his voice thick with part lust and part something darker still, “I’ve done ittwice.”
The knife comes up, trailing the edge of my collarbone. “You said none of this blood was yours,” Mikhail murmurs, the tip of it pressing against my skin. “I think it’s time we changed that.”
I let out a frightened gasp. I can’t help it. It’s not the first time he’s held a knife to my flesh, but if he presses down, if he follows through on his threat, it will be the first time he’s drawn blood. The first time he will have cut me.
When the blade parts my skin, ever so slightly, I cry out. It’s not the pain so much–it’s a thin cut, sharp and quick–but the shock of it. He’s never gone this far before.
He draws the knife down the edge of my collarbone, just below it, and I feel warmth trickling down my skin. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I don’t dare look. I can’t.
I don’t want to see.
The knife tip drags between my breasts, teasing at first, and I feel the bite of it again. I gasp, sinking my teeth into my lower lip, but I refuse to beg or plead for him to stop.
I don’t want to beg him for anything.
“I should have done this a long time ago,” Mikhail whispers, his voice thick as he drags the knife below my breasts, outlining each of my ribs. When it bites into my skin, leaving thin cuts and slowly welling blood, I feel as if I’m going to lose my mind.How long can this go on? What will he do next?The wondering is almost worse.
“I was too soft,” he murmurs. “I let you get under my skin. I have, from the very first time I saw you dance. But I was wrong.”
The knife moves lower, over my belly, and I close my eyes, fear welling in me.Don’t beg,I tell myself, over and over, even as the cold panic starts to overwhelm me.
“Maybe it doesn’t matter if you knew,” Mikhail says softly, leaning forward to whisper the words into my ear. “Maybe it’s enough to punish you like this, for as long as I please. Maybe I’ve changed my mind about what to do with you.”
I look sideways, my heart racing, and I see his gun on the desk next to me, within arm’s reach. I know I’ll only get one chance. I know if I’m not careful, I’ll end up on the floor bleeding out, and I won’t get any more chances after that.
“What do you mean?” I whisper, trying to focus, to distract him, to give myself one last chance of making it out of this house alive. “What are you going to do?”
“Maybe I don’t need to take you to Viktor.” The knife presses above one of my hipbones, the tip twisting against my flesh. “Maybe I’ll just keep you here, for myself, until I finally get tired of toying with you.”
His lips brush against my ear, his cheek pressed to mine. “And then, Natalia, I think Iwillkill you.”
With one swift motion, I grab for the gun. I don’t know if the safety is off, if I’ll succeed, but I snatch it, hand squeezing the grip as I press it to his temple, taking advantage of the moment where he can’t see what I’m doing to catch him off guard.
He freezes in place. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing,kotenok?” he growls, his voice low and threatening, but I’ve made it this far. I’m not about to back down now.
“Drop the knife.” My voice is shaking, but I hope he can hear the resolve in it. “Now.”
