14. Briar
14
brIAR
PRESENT DAY
I ’m running as fast as my legs will carry me. There’s an IV cannula still stuck in my arm. I don’t know how far I’ll be able to go, but I know I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try.
I can still see him in my mind’s eye.
I can still feel his touch, his scent, his stare.
It was all around me, surrounding me until I felt like I was suffocating.
I had to get away.
I know this will break Chloe’s heart, but she wasn’t listening to me. She doesn’t know that the Russian man is a monster.
I glance down at myself. The first thing I should do is get a change of clothes. Running around in a hospital gown will only put a target on my back. I look down the street and find the nearest clothing store.
I swiped some money from Dimitri’s wallet last night, so I have some spare cash.
I don’t know how long this money will last me. I’ll probably have to get a job soon.
A thrill runs through me at the thought of finally living on my own. It’ll be just like what Chloe did. She made something of herself. She escaped the clutches of her past. I can do the same.
I’m lost in thought as I enter the store. The staff eye me warily, but they smile politely anyway.
“Hi, how can I help you?” One of the sales assistants approaches me. She tries not to look at the hospital gown, but her eyes drop down to it eventually.
“Costume party,” I explain, grinning at her. “And I’m just looking around.”
And before she can question me, I slip away from her.
I grab whatever I can find and head to the fitting rooms. It’s not until I’m inside one that I realize I picked up clothes from the kid’s section. Everything’s a little too tight or a little too short.
I find a pair of shorts that fit okay, though.And I guess I can make one of the shirts work as a crop top.
I look at myself in the mirror and touch my lips. The events of the past few days are a blur, but the one thing I remember in vivid detail is how his lips felt on mine.
I told him that I didn’t remember him.
That wasn’t entirely true.
I kept seeing a vision in my head. There was so much blood. And he stood in the middle of it all.
The curtains are yanked open.
My eyes widen when I see the tall, muscular man in the mirror. I whirl around, looking for some escape, but he steps inside the small fitting room.
I look up at him. My heart bangs hard against my rib cage. I’m scared to death right now. But I can’t stop the excitement that floods my brain. The pure euphoria. The bursts of color.
“Did you really think you’d be able to run from me, solnishko ?” he asks.
“How did you find me?” I ask, taking a step back.
He takes a step forward. “I’m the Pakhan of the Drakonov Bratva. I learned a thing or two about body language.”
“Body language?” I ask, licking my lips because they suddenly feel dry.
“Yes, princess,” he says. “Body language. You’re good at lying and deceiving, but I see right through it all. I knew you were about to fly away. I could see it coming from a mile away.”
The intensity in his eyes lights a fire inside me. Every time I look into his eyes, my body has the strangest reaction. My mind tells me to run, but my body tells me to lean into him. It tells me to wrap my arms around him and hold him close.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I say. “None of you were listening to me. You were treating me like I was stupid.”
“I knew better than to underestimate you,” he says. His eyes roam down my body, taking in the too-small clothes. “And did you really think I’d let you walk back out onto the streets wearing that ?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Who are you to tell me what to wear?”
He bows his head until his mouth is just an inch away from my ear. “I’m your man, solnishko . And here’s the thing about body language. It never lies.”
The richness of his voice sends goosebumps scattering across my skin. I try to focus on keeping my breathing steady, but his proximity doesn’t help one bit.
“And you know what your body language is telling me right now?” he says, placing his hand over my bare stomach. He presses a kiss against my neck. My nipples pucker into hard points, and I know he can see them.
I glance up at him.
When our eyes lock, I swear his face darkens even more. It’s a storm of lust, and I’m right in the middle of it. He’s all around me, controlling me in the most delicious way.
“It tells me that you have a wet little hole between your legs,” he says. “And I already know it’s tight and perfect for me.”
My cheeks burn. He’s not wrong, but he has no right to speak to me like this.
My hand flies out before I can stop it. My palm stings where it makes contact with his cheek.
I expect anger. Rage. Something volatile.
But he only looks mildly surprised.
“I got carried away with my words,” he says. “I apologize.”
And before I know what’s happening, he pulls out a pair of handcuffs and shackles me to the door handle.
“Now be a good girl and stay here until I return with more suitable clothes,” he says.
I should be seething.
But when he leaves, I feel his absence physically. I feel like a junkie going through withdrawal.
He returns holding a large hoodie and oversized sweatpants.
“Are you going to take me back to the hospital?” I ask.
“I know you hate it there,” he says. “And besides, you were about to be discharged soon anyway.”
He removes the handcuffs. I rub my wrists even though they don’t hurt. I want to apologize for slapping him, but the words remain glued to my throat.
“Where’s Chloe?” I ask.
“Do you want to keep this shirt?” he asks, gesturing toward the small kid’s shirt I’m wearing.
“What? No,” I say.
He peels the fabric off my body. I raise my arms to help him get it off me. It’s not until he throws the shirt on a chair that I realize I’m standing topless in front of this Russian man. And my traitorous nipples harden once more for him.
“How is a man supposed to have clean thoughts when you look so fuckable?” he says. And then he switches to Russian, probably saying even filthier things.
It doesn’t bother me, even though it should.
His jaw is hard as he yanks the sweatshirt over my head. It comes all the way down to my knees. And then he makes me step into the sweatpants.
“I asked you where Chloe was,” I say, trying not to notice the way his hands feel against my bare stomach as he ties the drawstring.
“I was more concerned with finding you than looking for your sister,” he says. And then he takes my hand, leading me out of the fitting rooms.
The floor-to-ceiling glass windows show a convoy of Rolls Royce parked outside. I look at the sales assistants, but none of them even make eye contact with me.
“Did you even pay for this hoodie?” I ask.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, leading me toward the exit.
All of my dreams of freedom are shattered as I step out of the store.
I lived with a monster once. She dictated every minute of my life. She controlled every breath I took, sometimes literally.
“You’re just like her,” I say.
“What?” His grip on my waist tightens, like he’s afraid I will try to run again.
“My mother,” I say. “She was toxic and controlling. Just like you.”
“There’s a big difference between your mother and me,” he says.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I ask.
“Unlike her, I actually care about what’s best for you,” he says. “Even if you don’t see it that way sometimes.”
“Funny,” I say. “I swore she used to say the same thing.”
“Get inside the car, Briar,” he says.
“Where are you taking me?”
“I’ll tell you once we’re inside.”
“I want to talk to Chloe first,” I say.
He nods at one of his men. They hand him a syringe. I know what’s coming next, and there’s no point in trying to fight it. Sometimes, it’s easier to just give in.
“I change my mind,” I say, meeting his eyes as the needle sinks into my skin. “You’re not like my mother. You’re even worse.”
His eyes flash with an emotion I can’t comprehend.
He lifts me into his arms and takes me inside the car. It’s the middle of the day, yet not a single person on the street comes to my aid.
I didn’t expect them to.
But still, tears well in my eyes. He wipes them away before they can fall. His entire face is contorted with emotion.
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers.
“You were standing over dead men,” I say. “There was blood on your hands. So much blood. I remember you. I remember that you’re a monster. You’re all evil. You just wear different faces.”
Fresh tears flood my eyes before they start getting droopy. And again, he wipes them away.
He cradles me in his arms, holding me close to his chest. My patchwork heart is all over the place, but my body decides to curl into his warmth. He feels so good.
And he smells even better.
“You’re a monster,” I repeat, reminding myself of the nightmares that plagued me when I was trapped in my own mind. “You’re a monster.”
The drugs take me under.
But before I lose consciousness, I hear his voice.
“You’re right,” he says. “I am a monster. But I’m a monster that exists just for you.”