Sinful Embers (Vegas Bratva Kings #2)

14. LEIGH

Chapter 14

LEIGH

Two weeks .

Two weeks in this hellhole, breathing in the damp, stale air of the dungeon, listening to the slow drip of water from the cracked stone ceiling. Two weeks since I last felt sunlight on my skin or breathed air that wasn’t tainted with mildew and iron. Two weeks since my mind shattered open and my past came pouring back in, raw and unfiltered.

And in two weeks, I’ve learned one undeniable truth.

If I don’t escape I’m never leaving this place. They haven’t said it outright, but it’s been implied.

You can make this a lot easier on yourself and accept your new life. Timir’s voice echoes through my mind.

Timir and Carlos are both monsters, but in different ways. Timir is cold and calculating, his cruelty measured and precise. And Carlos… he’s just fucking unhinged. Where Timir operates with purpose, Carlos thrives on chaos, feeding on pain like it fuels him. He’s the one who gets off on making me feel powerless. The one who slams me into walls, yanks me from the shower, makes me stand there, dripping wet, naked and fully exposed—on display to his sick roving eyes while he asks the same useless questions over and over.

What new memories do you have for us today, princess?

The way he drags out the word princess grates on my nerves and makes me want to punch his nose into his brain. Yes, I remember my self-defense training now. I’ve been getting through the drudgery of the day by exercising and training once I get bored with writing or trying to sift through my thoughts and get them in order.

It’s been like the worlds untidiest filing cabinet in my head.

So I’m not lying when Carlos tries to humiliate and terrorize me into remembering and I tell him that I remember things from my childhood vividly but not much about what they’re asking about.

That usually gets me a slamming against the wall and himself against me and rubbing his cock into me. It’s never hard. I think he might have a problem or he’s gay. He loves to tell me that while other’s find me appealing I’m just an ugly little whore with a pretty fortune he will get his hands on.

I remind myself I’ve survived worse—much worse! While his threats and rough treatment of me are physically and somewhat mentally damaging. I will not let him break me. I have enough shit going on in my mind. Enough guilt and anguish over what I’ve done. And I stopped fearing them on my second day here when I was jolted into the past and memory of that awful day came steaming toward me bowling me over.

The marks, bruises and welts on my flesh from scraping against the wall or him digging his fingers into my flesh will heal. Any scars he leaves I will wear as my battle scars and when I get out of here I won’t let them get to me. I have much bigger problems to deal with like getting the hell out of here and then somehow disappearing.

I wonder if my grandmother can help me. I wonder if Yaya Alexi is even alive. I haven’t seen her in ten years and even if I had I’d probably not have recognized her. Fuck! That must’ve been awful for her. I frown as I wonder if she even tried to come see me? I can still picture her, smell her, and fell her loving arms around me. Everyone feared Yaya Alexi, but not me. To me she was all the love and warmth my own mother was not.

Of fuck! I swallow and pinch the bridge of my nose—Mamma Galina! No I can’t call her that now. I’m not sure what to call her now.

My eye shoot open. Is she still having an affair with my father? I guess it’s not really an affair anymore now that they’re both single. I shudder thinking abou that as its just to fucking weir—my father with my mother-in-law. It doesn’t even sound legal of course I know it is—they’re not related. It just sound incestuous.

I wonder if she knows what happened in their dungeon that day ten years ago? I know she, Judy, and Viktor are okay. My throat suddenly goes dry thinking about the three people that almost died that day because of me. Because my fucked up whore of a mother thought I’d stolen her journals. I didn’t even know she had journals.

My eyes land on the clock above the cell door—5:30 AM. That’s my cue.

I wake before the guards change shifts, just like I have every morning. I don’t even need to look at the clock on the wall—I’ve memorized the rhythm of this place. The guards rotate every two hours, their heavy boots giving them away as they stomp past my cell. I’ve given them all nicknames—Stomper, Dragster, Clomper, and Cruncher—based on the sounds they make as they patrol.

They changed guards at 5 so now it’s time to shower and get ready before breakfast—before that dipshit Carlos wakes up as his favorite game is interrupting my shower to see me naked. Another shudder rushed down my spine. The man is a fucking pervert.

I throw off the blanket and make my bed, tucking the sheets with military precision. The cold tiles bite at my feet as I move toward the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes quickly. The dungeon’s water is frigid in the mornings, but I’ve gotten used to it. It does warm up quite quickly but it’s not hot like it was when I first got here. I’m sure I have Carlos to thank for that. Another of his little psychological games.

I scrub my skin quickly, my fingers shaking as I check myself in the steamed up mirror. I wish there was someone I could find out if I was pregnant but other than getting a pregnancy test kit, I’ll have to wait another month to be sure.

I of the small tally marks I’ve etched onto the back cover of my memory notebook to count down the days to my period. Today is day fifteen since I ovulated. I should have started my period by now.

But I haven’t. That now familiar jolt at the thought I might be pregnant zaps through along with the wave of conflicting emotions causing havoc with my nervous system.

I press my hand to my stomach, heart pounding. If I am pregnant…

God, what would Radomir do?

The sounds of gunshots blast through my head and once again I feel the vibration of the pistol in my head as if it just fired. I squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t look at your hands, don’t look at your hand. It’s not real.

I quickly dry off and put on a clean pair of scrubs—purple ones to day. Not a pretty purple either—Barney the dinosaur purple. Thinking of Barney send my mind spinning back to becoming a mom. It’s both exciting and terrifying. In all honestly when I think about it, I have to try and steady myself as I want my baby, I just don’t know what kind of life I’m going to be able to give my child as our life will be one on the run, hiding in the shadows, under many false names.

The door swings open jolting me from my thoughts.

Timir steps inside, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. His usual sharpness is dulled, but his eyes—those cruel, intelligent eyes—still pin me with unsettling precision.

Behind him, a housekeeper wheels in a cart piled high with food. A full spread. Not the usual single plate.

My pulse spikes. Something’s different today.

“I thought I’d join you for breakfast,” Timir says casually, stepping aside so the housekeeper can place the dishes on the table. “Carlos tells me you’ve remembered more.”

“Carlos told me you’ve been ill that’s why you have been here lately,” I counter, taking the lid of my plate and notice the carefully laid out healthy breakfast. There’ no secrets now. They know I might be pregnant and as such I’m now on a strict healthy pregnancy diet.

“I can’t disagree,” Timir tells me, pulling the lid off his dish and I notice his breakfast is just as healthy as mine.

“Are you also a health nut?” I watch and he pours us tea.

The housekeeper takes my wet towels and dirty laundry, and our eyes meet.

I freeze.

Recognition slams into me.

She looks exactly like Tracy Volkov.

Same delicate features, same sharp, intelligent eyes. But it’s not her. This woman is older than Tracy. There something in her eyes as she notices I recognize her. Like she trying to convey a message, but it’s gone as soon she turns toward Timir.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” She asks Temur.

“No thank you Stasya.” Timir shake his head.

Stasya gives me once last quick meaningful look before ducking out the door. What is she doing here? Her parents have worked for the Molchanov’s for generations. He eldest and youngest sisters work for Radomir. Her brother is one of his most trusted men.

Radomir did say he had traitors in their ranks and even in his most trusted inner circle.

Timir leans over and pulls a bag from the trolley pushing it toward men/

“What’s in the bag?” I ask, my voice carefully even.

He gestures toward it. “See for yourself.”

I reach for it, my fingers tightening when I recognize the branding on the boxes.

Pregnancy tests.

Dozens of them.

My stomach flips as I rifle through them, pretending to be more irritated than alarmed. But what really catches my attention? The magnetic security strips attached to the packaging.

My mind spins. I could use these.

I have a flashlight—the pieces could make a strong enough magnet to disrupt my shackles.

But then what? I still don’t know the full layout of this place. I’d need a better plan before I tried anything. I also need an easy mark to steal a phone from.

I force myself to stay calm, tossing the bag back onto the table.

“I’ve been stuck in this dungeon for two weeks,” I say instead. “I need fresh air.”

Timir doesn’t react. “If you take a test after breakfast, we’ll go for a walk.”

I lift a brow. “And if I don’t?”

He smiles—slow and dangerous. “Then Stasya will assist you.” He leans in. “Or Carlos.”

Ice coats my spine. I know full well Carlos wouldn’t hesitate to assist me peeing on a stick. If I do it on my own, I can tamper with it. Put water on it and ensure a false negative. That could work in my favor. Twice now the other housekeeper has asked me about my period. At one point I was thinking I should lie and say I had it. But then what? Am I still valuable? As soon as they have what they want from my mind I’ll be disposable.

I clench my jaw. “Fine.”

I grab one of the tests and disappear behind the curtain, heart pounding.

But I don’t take it.

I unscrew the top, dip it into the toilet bowl instead, letting the water disrupt the results.

When I’m done, I set it on the table between us and sit down, forcing a smirk. “Nothing like breakfast and a pee stick.”

Timir glances at his watch. “We’ll know soon enough.”

I stab my fork into half an avocado, my mind already racing.

The Clock is Ticking

I have to get out.

I have to get to a phone.

Some of the other bigger memories are of my real father, Nikolas. He was always trying to prepare Sabrina and I for anything. One of those preparations was an emergency number I should call should I find myself in a difficult situation. The number is as clear as day, but I do wander if after all this time it’s still active.

And now, I have one more reason to escape.

Because if I am pregnant, I refuse to let my child be born into this nightmare.

I eat my breakfast and soon his watch bleeps. He picks it up.

“You do know I peed on that, right?”

“Pee isn’t that bad,” Timir shrugs. “It’s negative.” He frowns. “It’s probably too early to tell the lady at the pharmacy did warm me this could happen. “Tomorrow morning as soon as you wake up you must take another test. It when your pregnancy hormone is at its highest.”

While I’m not too thrilled about the test. I’m happy for the boxes and that little magnetic strip.

After breakfast I put the silk pumps Timir brought me. He pulls a magnetic key from his pockets and runs it over the ankle shackle that pops open, and he sucks in a breath when he sees how raw my ankle is. “It’s not supposed to do that.”

“I’ve been wearing it day and night for the past two weeks, what did you expect,” I point out.

“I’ll get you some cream for it,” Timir says. “Come on.” He stands and I notice the slight tremor in his hands as he puts his dish back on the trolley. “Let’s go for a walk around the grounds.”

I slip my feet into the silk desk shoe slippers I was given and follow him. As we walk through it, it reminds me a huge wine cellar except it’s divided in to eight cells each with heady metal doors like mine and peep holes. My eyes secretly scan for position of cameras, the guards and how far it is to the door.

As we step outside I’m hit by the warmth of the early summer morning and the smell of the earth after rain. “Did it rain last night?” I ask.

“Yes, it did.” Timir answers then says. “Welcome to my homeland Leigh. Welcome to Russia.”

“My first time out of the US and I don’t even get a stamp in my passport,” I mutter then turn my eyes widening as I see the big golden palace looming behind us and that’s when I smell it… the ocean. I swivel and notice the ground stretch toward the sea. “What sea is that?”

“The Black Sea,” Timir tells me, giving me an idea whereabout in Russia we are. “Where you not impressed with my palace?” He frowns at her.

“What?” I ask confused and glance back at the sprawling mansion. “It’s beautiful. I bet it’s even more so inside.”

“I hope one day soon, when you’ve come to accept your new life, I’ll be able to show it to you,” Timir tells me.

My heart slams against my ribs as he once again refers to my new life. Deep down a part of me wants to accept it. To run and hide in that great bit ostentatious gawdy golden palace. Jesus. That’s over compensation for something. I get my thoughts back on track. That’s the easy way out. To hide from Radomir, his mother, and his family.

But that’s just trading one cage for another, and I have a feeling while Timir wants to upgrade my accommodation, Carlos wants to whip away the tiny luxury’s I have in my cell and let me sleep on the cold hard floor like a dog. So I very much doubt I’ll get to see the inside of that gawdy palace anytime soon.

We start walking. “Let me show you around the gardens and we can talk.”

I follow Timir, taking in as much detail about the place as I can.

Suddenly we stop and he starts having a coughing fit and this time I see the blood he wipes from his lips.

I point toward a bench. “Let’s go sit over there for a while.”

I notice Timir doesn’t resist and we sit on the wooden bench looking out over the Black Sea sitting in silence while Timir gathers himself.

“You’re dying, aren’t you?” I catch his icy blue eyes.

Timir sighs resignedly and nods. “I am.”

“It’s the poison that was on the gold arrow, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Timir nods again. “The doctors managed to find something that has helped slow down the profession of the toxin. But they haven’t been able to crack how it was made or the antidote. Aparantly it’s been bio-engineered and need specific DNA which we believe was Vivienne’s DNA.”

“Figures that bitch would do something like that,” I seethe.

While the man is a monster to be honest he’s never been one to me. I have memories of him being nothing but kind and even sticking up for me against Vivienne. Even now, locked in his dungeon, he’s tried to make as comfortable as possible, which doesn’t add up or make sense to me.

“That’s why she scathingly told me that day she died that I’d never find the antidote for you without her,” Timir tells me. “But I knew as soon as I found out your real father was still alive, I knew he’d find the antidote for you.”

“What about you?”

“At the time, I didn’t realize the arrow was poison until black streaks started spanning out from the point of impact.” He wipes his mouth again. “I still have them only now they’ve spread across nearly my whole body.”

He rolls up his sleeves and I suck in a breath. That’s why he wears long sleeves all the time. He looks like someone took a permanent marker and drew lines all over it.

“I’m sorry!” The words escape my lips before I can stop them. “What are you looking for in my mind?”

“The gold key,” Timir repeats what he’s told for what seems like the millionth time.

“Yes, but what is it?”

“I always presumed it was a key that unlocked some safety deposit or bio box,” Timir answers.

“What the heck is a bio box?”

“Whoever engineered Vivienne’s designer poison also made her a series of bio box’s.” He shakes his head. “They are really nasty lock boxes too. If you put the wrong DNA on it… poof, contents destroyed.”

“Did you try tracking down the person who made this shit for her?” My eyes search his questioningly.

“We did and that person is dead,” Timir answers and my eye widen. “My only hope now is to find the golden key and then the lock box it opens.”

“How much time do you have?” My mind starts to tick over with possibilities.

“Six months at the most.” Timir shrugs.

“Then why are you doing this?” I ask him. “Why kidnap me? Carlos has made your plans quite clear to me. I know you somehow manipulated Mamma…” my voice trails off. Shit I nearly slipped there. “Galina Molchanov into getting my uncle Mark to deliver me to Radomir so they could force us together to create a super heir. Our marriage and child cement the alliance between two huge global giant corporations with their fingers in pies that would serve the Brava well.”

Timir sighs again. “Can I trust you with a secret, Leigh?” He looks at me. And I’m stunned at the sheer resignation in the depth of his eyes, and he looks exhausted.

“Sure.” I shrug. “Who am I going to tell? My good buddies Brick One and Brick Two in my cell?”

“If this gets back to Carlos, we’re all in danger and I won’t be able to protect you,” Timir’s words shock me.

I want to laugh. Is this what he calls protecting me? But I don’t laugh as he’s dead serious and Mark and Carla taught me to never be rude to my elders no matter who they are. I nod instead.

“Nineteen years ago I had big dreams. I created the Golden Hydra Syndicate to take down my family’s Bratva and show my father, I have always been the better son. My older brother was a lazy dick who rode to success on the backs of other hard working people.” Timurs eyes darken with anger. “I started hanging around with your mother and Carlos again. Vivienne was distraught because she’d just found out that Nikolas was filing for divorce.”

“I remember that argument, well,” I tell him. “I can remember feeling so excited. We were finally getting rid of the bitch.”

“You really hated her?” His eyes search mine. “But what she put you through, it’s no surprise.”

My eyes widen. “Oh shit, you’re one of her partners in crime.” My stomach rolls.

“I was.” Timir nods. “A few weeks after Carlos killed your grandfather and uncle. We thought Nikolas was dead and Carlos had plastic surgery to fit into your life. You told Vivienne to get that man out of your house. He wasn’t your father. You knew right away Carlos was not Nikolas.”

“What plans?”

“Vivienne, myself, and Carlos had all been disowned or somehow tossed aside by our families,” Timir explains. “We wanted revenge. We wanted undeniable power and control.”

“That’s not psycho at all.” My voice drips with sarcastic disdain.

“The plan was simple but brilliant. Carlos would become Nikolas. As your father he had full control over you.” He stares out over the ocean lost in his memories. “We were going to wipe out all the Vasiliki’s, Archontis, Mirochin, and Molchanov’s. Leaving only a few. A few that would have no option but to follow me as the Pakhan of what would then be the biggest most power Bratva not to mention it’s power associated with giants like Matriarch and Archontis.”

“Wow!” I look at him astounded. “And I was the tool to getting you all that.”

“You were,” Timir answers honestly. “But then after the plan was set in motion things changed.”

“You grew a conscience?” I look at him skeptically.

“No. I’m Bratva. That’s been bred out of us.” Humor flashes in his eyes.

“Did you just make a joke?” I look at him in amazement.

“I tried.” He shrugged. “I admit to not being very funny.”

“That’s because you’re a…” the truth suddenly dawns on me, and I look at him. The likeness to Oleksi. Setting me up with Radomir to join all the Mirochin and Molchanov Bratva’s. The penny finally drops. Why hadn’t I realized this sooner? “You’re related to Radomir.”

“I thought you’d realized that the minute you called me Oleksi?” He pulls a face.

The world feels like it started to sway as I stare at him in shock for a few seconds before I’m slammed by gut wrenching fear. My breathing becomes shallow, and the thought hits me like a ton of brick— he knows. He was there the day I killed his brother and brother-in-law!

“You’re Dmitri Mirochin!” His names tumbles from my lips, and I hear Vivienne’s voice: Remember this name, Leigh, Dmitri Mirochin he’s the Ice Man!