4. Yuri
FOUR
Yuri
I sit on the entryway stairs, tension making my shoulders ache. I know I’m lucky to still be at this mansion. I might not get to stay here for much longer, depending on what Kotya and Nikolai decide.
Sierra would be better off without me. No wonder they’ve been edging me out. Those two years I was gone were probably a nice reprieve from my carelessness and recklessness.
My phone buzzes, and I startle before pulling it out of my leather jacket’s pocket.
I scowl at the new message.
Should you find yourself at loose ends, don’t hesitate to reach out . I will ensure Kyran controls himself. -S
How the fuck did Silvano Cresci even get my phone number? And why would I ever want to deal with him? It’s bad enough that we owe Victor Corvi now, all thanks to my stupidity.
My heart flutters strangely when I see the car coming down the driveway—Kotya’s car. They’re a little late, but everything to do with the hospital runs late. All it’s done is make my anxiety ratchet up.
Maybe I should have left. I could take my motorcycle and travel across America, doing odd jobs for cash or scamming people the way I used to, before I’d met Kotya. I doubt Kotya would bother to chase me down.
But that sounds cowardly even to my ears, and I sit, clenching my fists, while I wait for them to find me.
Nikolai is first in the house, guiding Sierra along with an arm around her waist. His expression hardens when he sees me, but hers is more inscrutable. She looks pale and fragile, and guilt gnaws at me as I take in the sight of her. She starts to take a step toward me, but Nikolai holds her to him.
Kotya follows behind them, shutting the front door. His expression is hard, and I can feel the disapproval radiating off of him.
I get up and go down the few steps, but I stop at the foot of the stairs. My throat is dry, and I have no idea what to say.
“Yura,” Kotya growls. “We are taking Sierra to her room. Go away. You’re bothering us.”
The accusation cuts through me, but I nod. “Yes, sir,” I mumble, stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets.
“Kotya…” Sierra says, and while her voice is quiet, it’s steelier than usual. She glances around us, noting the presence of guards near the door, and her protest halts. She pins him with a stare, though, saying quietly enough for only us to hear, “Enough.”
She’s no mafia princess, to command the leader of the bratva, but I have to admire her courage.
Kotya meets her gaze and shakes his head. “Yura doesn’t deserve to touch you, Sierrochka. He almost…” He sneers and clenches his fists.
“He’s right,” I add with a sad smile. “You should be mad at me, Sierra.”
“I’m a big girl,” she says, her voice quiet but fierce. “I decide who I’m mad at. And seeing as how I’m the one who ended up in the hospital, I think I should get a say in who gets to be around me.”
Nikolai’s arm tightens around her waist, and she swats at his arm. She tries to evade him but ends up wincing as her shoulder twists, and she gives up.
“God, you guys are apes,” she mutters.
Kotya glances between all of us. “How do we resolve this, then? Nikolai and I are not ready to forgive Yura.”
“It’s not just about you anymore, zaya,” Nikolai bites out. “You have to take the baby into consideration.”
My breath catches in my throat. “The baby?” My eyes go to Sierra, to her stomach. She wraps her arms around herself and scowls.
“Yes, yes, you did it. You got me knocked up. Congratulations. I’m more upset about that than being shot, for what it’s worth, but no one seems to care about that,” she snaps.
More guilt slams into me. I try to say something, but the words catch in my throat, and I don’t even know how to apologize in Russian, never mind English. I look to Kotya, and I want to beg for absolution.
Kotya glares back—but after a few seconds, his stance gets looser.
“A whipping. I think that’s what I promised you,” he says.
“Kotya—” Sierra starts.
Nikolai is the one to interrupt her. “He’s lucky Kotya wants to forgive him at all,” he says, and while his words are harsh, his voice is steady. “This isn’t something to argue about. If you want Yuri—” and it hurts that he calls me Yuri—“to be forgiven, he needs to be punished.”
“I accept,” I answer, forcing myself to stand taller. “Whip me bloody if that’s what it takes.”
“Yuri…” Sierra says, but she trails off when Kotya and Nikolai fix their stares on her again. She grimaces. “And then this is over? You stop fucking with him? You let him be a person again?”
Kotya nods. “That will be it. Penance in blood.”
I know I can withstand the pain—and even if I can’t, I will endure it. I will do whatever it takes to be part of this group again. “My blood is yours.”
Nikolai doesn’t look happy about it, but he nods. “If it’s good enough for Kotya, it’s good enough for me.”
Sierra reaches out for me, but Nikolai still holds her back. “Goddamn it,” she mutters. “I know it’s not my decision,” she adds carefully. “And I think he’s plenty contrite enough without being whipped. But I get it. My father…” Something in her expression flickers, something sad and miserable. “He would’ve done worse.”
Kotya looks at me once more before pointing at the basement door. “Downstairs. We will do this now.”
I don’t argue. I go down, the hair on the back of my neck rising. My heart is racing in anticipation.
When I get to the cell, I stop in front of the shackles on the wall. The concrete wall and floor are clean, not a single stain to show what other things have taken place here. I tentatively place my hands against the shackles.
“Jacket and shirt off,” Kotya barks from behind. “Actually, get completely naked.”
I strip down while they watch me, but I don’t look at Sierra’s face. I don’t know what I’d see in her expression.
Nikolai waits until I’m fully naked before he grabs one of my wrists, yanking me toward the shackles with a bruising grip. I don’t need to be bound, but I endure it as he does the same with my other wrist.
I hear Kotya open the drawer that holds his tools. Sierra gasps, so I assume it’s one of the heavier whips that can easily flay skin open.
My eyes focus on the tattoo on my arm, and I remind myself that I’m well acquainted with pain. I didn’t get my cock tattooed because I shy away from pain.
“How many does he deserve?” Kotya asks.
“Jesus,” Sierra mutters.
“You don’t have to stay,” I tell Sierra, although part of me wants her there. I need her to see what I’m willing to go through for her.
“Twenty,” Nikolai says grimly. “And he’s lucky I’m not saying twenty-five.”
“That’s too many,” Sierra protests. “With that fucking thing? Ten is going to be torture.”
“Fifteen, then,” Kotya announces. “I will not go easy on you, Yura.”
I bark out a laugh. “I didn’t ask you to. Give it to me.”
Despite my words, I tense in anticipation. I’ve seen how Kotya wields the whip, and most men end up with bloodied backs, incapacitated for weeks.
I’m not sure what’s happening behind me, but Sierra goes quiet. Nikolai must have given her a look, or maybe Kotya. Neither of them speaks, though.
The first lash whistles through the air, and I grunt as it lands across my shoulders. The pain is sharp, but it isn’t as bad as I would have expected.
Kotya held back.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, closing my eyes and steeling myself for the next lash.
“One,” Nikolai counts, ignoring my apology. It’s not for him anyway, though.
The second blow comes harder than the first, like I’d expected, and he counts as Kotya wields the whip—and I know without a shadow of a doubt that despite how Sierra reacts when she sees blood that she’s watching me give penance.
On the fourth strike, the sting is sharper, and the copper scent of blood hits my nose. The pain is getting harder to ignore, but I keep breathing through it.
I hear a sharp inhalation of breath that I think is from Sierra.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, hoping my voice stays steady.
“Four,” Nikolai says. I’d have expected him to sound angry, but he sounds impassive.
The next few blows come slowly, giving me enough time for my body to relax but my mind to race with anticipation.
After the seventh blow, I hear a stifled sob.
“Shh,” Nikolai says. “Halfway there. You’re doing so well, zaya.”
I should resent him for comforting Sierra when I’m the one suffering. But I’m suffering for her sake, and she shouldn’t be punished for my weakness.
“You can leave, Sierra,” I say again, my voice hoarse. “You don’t have to watch.”
“I’m not leaving,” she replies, though her voice is ragged, too. She sniffles, and she says quietly, “Only a few more, and you’ll be forgiven. And I—” She hiccups, and she doesn’t finish the sentence.
I hear Kotya make a soft noise. His next strike is softer, and it catches me across my ass, where it will do less damage.
None of the lashes have wrapped around my sides, either.
“Eight,” Nikolai says.
I quickly mumble, “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry that I shot her. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to her. I’m sorry that I dragged her into this.
I’m sorry that I made her feel like she had to escape us.
The pain starts to ebb by the tenth blow, turning into something more intense. It still hurts, but it hurts in a different way. This is supposed to be punishment, penance, but I feel my body starting to react.
I realize my cock has started to get hard, too, and my ragged breathing has an edge of a moan to it as another strike lands.
Nikolai counts it out, but it’s all so fuzzy and blurry in the background that I can’t make out what he’s saying.
It doesn’t matter anyway.
I repeat my apologies, over and over, as the pain layers on me. My back is slick with blood, and my cock hardens further.
The whip strikes across an already opened wound, and I cry out, my voice echoing against the concrete walls. My body falters, but I grip the chains to keep myself upright.
I brace myself for the next lash, for Nikolai to count the next number, yet nothing happens.
“It is done,” Kotya’s voice says with finality. “Nikolai, uncuff him.”
Done? I moan and shake my head. We can’t be done. I don’t feel done yet.
There’s a rustling sound, then footsteps, and Nikolai approaches. He uncuffs me, and he catches me when I start to falter.
More footsteps, then Sierra is at my side. “Jesus fucking Christ, Kotya,” she says raggedly. “There’s—” She cuts herself off.
I reach out with one hand. I don’t know who I’m reaching for, but it’s Kotya who steps into the space. He guides me to lean against him, and my erection brushes against his slacks. I swallow a moan and bury my face in his large chest.
“It is done,” Kotya repeats, softer this time. “Let’s move him to the guest room down here.”
I take in a shaky breath and clutch his shirt. My eyes blur, and I try to blink away the tears. I don’t deserve to cry.
Except Kotya has forgiven me. Nikolai has forgiven me.
Sierra has forgiven me.
I can endure anything for that.
Kotya and Nikolai help me along, and I can hear Sierra trailing behind us. I’m grateful to get to the room down here, even though it’s not the most welcoming place; it’s more meant for our enemies than anything else.
But I know that isn’t how they think of me, not now that I’ve made my penance.
Kotya and Nikolai help me lie facedown on the bed. I groan when that makes the skin on my back stretch around the wounds.
“You can… you can go,” I murmur, clutching the pillow.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sierra says, and the bed dips as she sits down next to me.
“I’ll get the supplies,” Nikolai says.
Kotya and Nikolai both leave, which means I’m alone in the room with Sierra now.
I realize this is a gift they’ve given me. Proof that my penance is over. Proof that I am once again worthy of Sierra.
“Did it turn you on?” I ask, half smiling. “Me naked like that?”
She lets out a choked laugh. “Yuri…” She slowly strokes my hair, like she had in the hospital when she’d been the injured one.
“Sorry you have to take care of me now,” I mumble, leaning into her gentle touch. “Even though you’re still recovering.”
“It’s not your fault,” Sierra says pointedly. “Blame Kotya and Nikolai for it. Now they’re going to have to take care of both of us.”
“Nikolai will enjoy taking care of you,” I say. After a few moments of silence, I add, “It turned me on. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I got hard when they were doing my tattoos, too.”
Sierra pauses, her hand going still in my hair before she starts to card her fingers through it again. “There’s… a lot of blood,” she says carefully. “You probably shouldn’t get Kotya to go that hard on you for fun or anything.”
“I don’t think the bleeding part was fun,” I admit. I roll my shoulders and hiss in pain. “I probably won’t go on motorcycle rides for a while.”
“Pity,” she says. “I kind of liked those. I…” She seems like she’s about to say something else, but I hear Nikolai and Kotya approaching, and she stops.
“Think we need a doctor?” Nikolai asks as he steps into the room. “You got him pretty good.”
“I did not go beyond what he can handle,” Kotya answers. He approaches the bed and ruffles my hair. “The cuts are shallow.”
“I knew you were holding back,” I grumble, but my face warms, too. I bury my head in the pillow to hide my blush.
Something occurs to me, and I turn my head so I can see Sierra’s face. It’s pale, as bloodless as my back is bloody, and I can see that she was crying during my whipping. But she got through it, like I did, and she isn’t panicking this time.
“Hey, you did well,” I say to Sierra, smiling as best I can. “And Kotya used the baby gloves on me.”
“Kid gloves,” Sierra corrects immediately.
“What’s the difference?” I ask.
Sierra snorts.
Nikolai has started to tend to my back, and Kotya’s comforting presence is right there. Between the three of them there, it’s not all that bad.
Sierra moves next to me, each motion exaggerated and slow as she avoids disturbing my back too much—and her injury as well, too, but she ignores it as she lies down. She leans in and kisses my forehead.
I blush again, much stronger this time. My chest warms in a way that’s unfamiliar.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“For what?” she asks, sounding genuinely puzzled.
“For forgiving me.” I lift my head enough that I can see Kotya and Nikolai too. “And you guys too. I know I fucked up.”
“If you ever hurt her again, I’ll kill you myself,” Nikolai says bluntly. “So don’t fuck up.”
I nod seriously. “I know.” I let my head sink back down to the bed.
I really do know.
This is my one and only chance.
I’m never going to make a mistake like that ever again.