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“Because she was a whore that he couldn’t control, just like my wife,” he says. “Has dear Eva ever shown you the list of men she’s been with? I’m surprised Vasily didn’t break her neck that night. How do you know you’re even Vasily’s son? Maybe you’re a bastard, like your sister.”
I rush to the bed, but he smiles at my display of anger.He wants to die,I remind myself. Now he knows what to say, and I don’t know how to get under his skin.
“I don’t believe you’re married to my Paige,” he continues. “She has the good sense not to get involved with filth. All the gold and money in the world can’t hide you for what you are: trash.” He cackles lightly. “If she’s your wife, where is she?”
“I know who and what you are, old man!” I grip the rail on the bed.
“Then say it.” A twisted smile rises on his cancer-ravaged lips. “Say my name. Not my real name, but the name you people branded me with.”
“Sava Khodemchuk.” I take a deep breath, snarling. “The Thief.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it, boy?” Despite the weakness of his voice, his eyes are hard. They burn like Paige’s, but there’s no warmth behind them.
“Where’s my father’s money, Sava?”
“Same thing I told all his friends, I squandered it at the track and on lottery tickets. Not a penny is left.”
“I don’t believe you, thief” I hiss, spit hitting his face. “You hid it; I know it! Where is it hidden?”
“It’s no more mine than it is yours. He took that money from his victims. Who’s the thief now, son of Vasily?”
I raise my fist, but stop when he smirks. He’s done it again. Hewantsme to hit him, but I won’t do it. Paige would never understand if I killed her father.
I walk over to the door and call the guard in. Viktor Krasnov is an uninitiated soldier—a child still at sixteen; tall, wiry, and heartless, he’s eager to prove his worth to the Bratva and earn his first tattoo.
“I have a job for you.” I grab my phone from my pocket and scroll through the pictures. “Thisublyudokhas another daughter. My wife’s sister. I want her brought here. Keep her in one whole piece so that he can see.”
Viktor looks at the photo I sent to his phone. Emma smiles at the viewer with pouty lips. For a moment, his gaze lingers on the screen, then he nods and leaves the room.
I look back at Gerald, who remains stoic though his hands are curled into fists. I’ve gotten to him, but his eyes still have a defiant look.
“You’ll regret this, Andrei Vasilyevich,” Gerald whispers. “I outlasted your father, and I’ll outlast you.”
Chapter 3
Paige
I’m given cold, plain oatmeal and consume it only out of necessity to keep my baby and me alive. I track the days by the number of meals I’m given. It must be my third day here, and I have plenty of time to regret leaving the mansion without a guard. I was afraid Andrei would say no if I told him I was going to the hospital.
Now, I spend my time regretting not giving him the chance.
Talia’s heels click slowly down the steps and across the tiles. She dresses up to torture whoever is strapped in the chair. Some are thrown in cells. And others are carried out lifeless. But she has yet to lay a hand on me. The expression on her face is almost orgasmic whenever she cuts into her latest victims. And each time, she demands that I watch, reveling in the pleasure of taking the choice away from me.
Every time she inflicts pain, she narrates it for me, and lectures me on being a good Bratva wife.
If I dare look away, Talia blames me for each life taken, as if I’m the one wielding the blade.
No sooner do I eat that disgusting mush than I feel sick again. The sour smell hangs in the stagnant air, making me wretch. One of her men dared to complain about the smell, and I almost thought she would strap him to the chair.
A screaming woman is dragged into the cellar by her goons. She’s dressed in thin pajamas covered with hearts. They must have snatched her out of her bed. She doesn’t look much older than me, and our hair is the same shade of light brown. I shrink back toward the cinder block wall, fully understanding why she is here.
“Please don’t do this!” she shouts as she’s tied to the chair. “My father will pay you.”
Talia ignores the woman’s pleas and is unmoved by the terror in her eyes. The goons circle her, and she struggles with her bindings as she begs. I want to close my eyes, but Talia turns and silently dares me.
The woman looks to see what Talia is staring at. She sees me, dirty and gross, and starts to tremble.
“Please,” she begs me. “Tell her not to do this.”
