7. Sierra
SEVEN
Sierra
I wasn’t kidding when I said the laptop they gave me was crap. It’s got to be at least six years old, it runs on the previous iteration of Windows, and I think opening two tabs at once uses up all of its RAM.
There’s nothing I can do about it now, though. I need to give them something if I want them to trust me more.
This laptop isn’t even hooked up to the main network. Maybe it had been wishful thinking that they’d let me access the same network everything else in this mansion is using. I know my brothers hadn’t understood any of this stuff. I’d even noticed Kyran had spyware on his phone once, probably from downloading porn from shady sites. I’d given him a whole lecture about cybersecurity, all while Kyran denied ever visiting those kinds of sites.
Yeah, right.
My hands still on the keyboard.
I hope Kyran doesn’t do anything stupid trying to rescue me.
Except part of me does hope he shows up, despite what I told him. He could come in guns blazing, riddle Nikolai and Konstantin’s bodies with bullets, and…
Probably get himself killed in the process .
I rub my brow and shake the thoughts away. Thoughts of revenge aren’t going to help me here, even if I prefer thinking about them than the way my body aches.
It isn’t all from pain, either.
I shudder when I think of the way Nikolai’s fingers had felt, the way he’d urged me toward climax and shoved me over the edge not once, but twice in rapid succession. It’s not fucking fair. None of this is.
I squeeze my eyes closed, take a deep breath, then go back to typing.
It’s slow going, and the only reason I’ve made any progress at all was the fact that I’d managed to crack my father’s secret phone. For being so important, he had been careless with it, assuming that its location in the safe room would keep it from falling into the wrong hands.
Maybe Konstantin and Nikolai wouldn’t have found it if it hadn’t been for me. The feds hadn’t found it, after all. But I’d known what I would need, and this is part of it.
I wish they’d let me have proper clothes. I’m still wearing just one of Konstantin’s oversized t-shirts. I’d found a bathrobe and used its tie to make a makeshift belt, but I’m beyond self-conscious of the fact that I’m sitting on this chair without any underwear.
At least none of the staff bother me in this room. Cell. Whatever they want to call it. Yay, I get a bed and an attached en-suite. It’s still essentially a prison. The only times they let me out is when they want to parade me around and fuck me and?—
Right, I’m not thinking about that.
I’m trying everything I can think of to access my father’s passwords. He has a password manager that I’d set up for him, but the password isn’t the one I’d originally set for him, and of course it’s all encrypted and backed up on one of his private servers that he never saw fit to give me access to.
I did try the stupid easy passwords, like my niece and nephew’s names and birthdates. I tried less obvious ones, like the day my brother Neil died .
But in the end, he had taken all of my advice about randomized passwords to heart.
“I know why you were such a paranoid fucker, but did you have to be such a paranoid fucker?” I complain to my dad’s computer. If I had a laptop with more processing power, I could attempt to brute force at least one password, but they won’t give me that unless I find something and I can’t find something without more processing power and…
Of course, I don’t need my father’s passwords to start looking into other things. Like the news articles about Sean’s arrest. That was the same event that got Konstanin and Nikolai’s boss, Matvey Petrov, arrested.
What’s funny is that I’m sure Konstantin’s surname is Voronkov, and this was always the Voronkov Bratva, so why was some dude named Petrov in charge?
There’s something I can use there, if I can figure out what was going on.
The public articles tell me that Petrov is technically still awaiting trial, but he’s being held without bail due to the flight risk.
I’m tabbing through all the articles I can find, trying to dig up more about the guy. Late fifties, an established mobster for years, ties to Russia, etc etc. Nothing particularly new. I try looking up this Yuri that Konstantin and Nikolai keep mentioning.
He has to be the same Yuri I’d met two years ago. The young man who’d flirted with me… and disappeared just as quickly. I thought my father must have put the fear of god in him like he’d done to me—that like Kyran now, Yuri hadn’t been willing to fight for me.
I guess I know the real reason he disappeared, but there aren’t any articles about him. He isn’t a big enough deal for anybody to write about him.
Out of idle curiosity, I search my father’s name.
I find the obituary, and one single article in the NB Times’ Crime section, but of course nobody knows what happened and his body was never found .
Literally never found, not just kept from law enforcement. Ma and I’d had to do a closed casket funeral, and I’d had to just accept Kyran’s word that one of the Voronkov guys did him in. The story stinks no matter how I look at it. I’m sure Kyran thinks he’s protecting me from the harsh realities of the criminal underworld, but I really don’t need that kind of consideration.
They all think I’m useless and weak just because I’m a woman, and how the fuck am I supposed to prove otherwise?
I’m still browsing, waiting for my hastily-put-together program to try to gain access, when I hear shouting in Russian from the hall. I have just a few seconds to shut the browsers — set to automatically delete any browsing history — and swivel my chair around when the door slams open.
My heart drops into my stomach because I recognize this man.
It really is Yuri Yashin.
Until Konstantin and Nikolai took me, I’d almost forgotten about Yuri. I’d set aside all thoughts of our brief interaction a few years ago. I had a boyfriend, after all.
My other dating choices hadn’t been any smarter than flirting with the hot Russian bratva mobster.
Do Nikolai and Konstantin know that Yuri and I have met before? They have to, don’t they? Or did Yuri keep our meeting to himself? “Y-Yuri,” I stammer, standing up. “I thought you were…”
He looks different. Harder. Colder.
Had it really been two years ago?
He’s still tall and lithe, skinnier than the other two, though he has more muscle mass than he’d had when I’d seen him last. His hair is longer, too, hanging loose with the bottom half bleached blond while the rest is dark brown.His tight jeans sit low on his waist, and under his leather jacket, he has on a tight t-shirt. His tattoos peek out from under his shirt collar.
“Sierra Winters,” Yuri says. He still has that sexy Russian accent, not as strong as Konstantin’s but still very clearly foreign. “What a pleasure to meet you again.”
I laugh nervously, edging back until my ass is pressing against the desk I’d been sitting at — like that’s really going to put enough distance between us. I realize I have no idea what to say to him.
My father had said he’d kill Yuri if I ever talked to him again. Instead, he and my brother had apparently conspired to get him locked up.
Fuck.
Back then, he’d seemed so much kinder than my brother. But from what Nikolai and Konstantin have been saying, from how Yuri is looking at me now—he’s every bit as violent as the rest of them.
“It’s good to see you,” I say, and it would be the truth if I wasn’t so fucking spooked.
“Is it now?” Yuri advances on me, his boots thudding hard on the floor. “How funny. I’ve been dying to see you too. Just thinking about all the ways you fucked me over.”
I stare at him, my mouth dropping open. “Excuse me?” I sputter. “The way I fucked you over? I didn’t do anything.”
Except I sort of had, I realize with a jolt of guilt.
He’d flirted with me, sure, but I’d been the one to come onto him. I’d been the one to get caught trying to text him by my father, of all people. Pa and Sean might have left him alone if I hadn’t tried to make a move.
“I swear, I thought that if I didn’t try to contact you again, Pa would give it a rest,” I say, edging sideways so I don’t end up cornered against the desk.
Yuri stalks closer, expression still thunderous.
“Yura!” Konstantin shouts from outside. “Calm down!”
Fuck.
Yuri reaches into his jacket pocket, and I don’t even want to imagine what he has in there.
Konstantin rushes into the room and grabs Yuri’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “Yura!” He says something in Russian, and Yuri argues back. I hear Winters and Sierra several times, which gives me a clue what they’re arguing about. Not that it would have been hard to figure out either way.
Yuri shakes Konstantin’s hand off. “Fine! I’ll play nice.” He tosses something onto the armchair in the corner of the room. It glints under the lights, and it’s hard to tell, but I think they’re metal knuckles.
Yuri turns to me and gives me a terrifying grin. “Your brother was so keen to make sure you didn’t get close to me.”
“I had nothing to do with that,” I say again, trying for bravado despite the waver in my voice. “Sean was?—”
“ Sean .” Yuri says the name like he’s swallowed something nasty. “I’m not surprised he double-crossed Petrov. I knew he was a snake. He’s only lucky that I know how to keep my mouth shut around cops.”
I notice Konstantin frowning, and I wonder if that means that he didn’t know about this.
“Yura…” Konstantin squeezes Yuri’s shoulders. “You want revenge? Is that why you were upset?” He lets go of Yuri and walks closer to me. “I will hold her for you. You can mark her as you want. We can invite Nikolai to join, too. He’s been waiting for you before he properly made use of her.”
I can feel my face paling. “Um.” I swallow thickly, trying to break into the conversation. “Hold me? I don’t… I’ve already…”
Fuck. They’ve already marked me. I don’t need more marks. I don’t need more touching.
Nikolai finally comes in behind them, out of breath and looking anxious — then relieved. “Yura! Good. I was going to have you come meet our pet.”
I back up a few more paces, although fuck knows there’s nowhere to go. “We don’t need to do any of this,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Let’s talk things out first.”
Yuri scoffs. “Talk? Talk is for people who like each other.”
That hurts more than I care to admit. I’d thought Yuri and I had connected at least a little back then. I guess two years in jail was enough to make his mild interest in me sour horribly.
I glance helplessly at Nikolai and Konstantin, but they don’t look inclined to help.
Nikolai moves to stand behind Yuri, his hand on the flat of Yuri’s stomach. “We left her mouth and ass untouched, just for you,” he says helpfully .
I swallow hard, trying not to outright panic.
Back then, of course, if I’d had a chance, I’d have consented in a heartbeat. Now, though?
“Yuri…” I croak out.
Yuri pauses to look at Nikolai. “How nice of you. I almost expected you’d completely ruined her while I was out of sight, out of mind.”
“Yura!” Konstantin chastises. “We didn’t forget you. But we had an opportunity.” He comes up to me and grabs my arms to hold me still. “She’s your type, right? I didn’t know about Sean. But it’s good she’s alive, with us, so we can show Sean and Kyran Winters just what we do to people who betray us.”
I feel sick.
I don’t want them to show my brothers anything, even in theory, even in thought.
I don’t know if I can handle my whole family knowing what’s being done to me here.
Then again, it’s not like it’s rocket science.
“Please,” I try to reason with them, “I didn’t do anything wrong. Please go easy on me. I already said I’d do… anything.”
And there’s that word, that hated word that feels bitter on my tongue.
Yuri turns his glare on me. “Anything?” There’s nothing lustful about that glare, only hard rage. “I want her mouth.”
I hate how they talk about me, like I’m not here at all. I hate how they treat me like I’m an inanimate object, just a toy. I hate them.
I can feel Konstantin nodding behind me. “That’s a nice image.” He lets go of one arm to stroke my hair. “Are you excited, Sierrochka? Yura has a nice cock. You’ll get to worship it and show us just how agreeable you are.”
I don’t want to be agreeable. I want to be as disagreeable as I can, but it’s not going to help anything. They’ll just threaten my mother, my brothers… maybe even my niece and nephew.
Bile threatens to rise up in my throat as I think of another image of bodies, of death, of innocents paying the price for what others have done, and I swallow hard against it.
So I nod, for all that I stare at Yuri like a deer in headlights.
“Come on,” Nikolai orders me, letting go of Yuri after a brief squeeze to his middle. “Get on your knees, zaya.”
Konstantin pushes on my shoulders, as if he thinks I’m not going to obey. But I get on my knees, wishing the rug wasn’t so rough and thin.
Maybe I can get them to give me a pillow for my knees.
I almost laugh about that. Yeah, right. My suffering is the point for them.
Yuri approaches me, stomping in those heavy boots. The jeans are so form-fitting that I wonder how he even squeezes into them. This close, I can see that his belt has little metal studs all over.
He undoes the belt and opens up his fly. He isn’t hard yet, and I’m not sure if I’m glad he isn’t getting off on the anger alone, or if this means everything will just be prolonged.
“Take me out,” Yuri orders. “You’re going to have to really work for it.”
I don’t know if that’s meant to be insulting or not. I ignore the hard floor beneath my knees, taking a deep breath and staring at his flaccid cock.
At first I think there’s hair on it, until I realize the dark lines are from a tattoo. I swallow a surprised noise, trying not to imagine how much it must have hurt to get that image done. I have more important things to focus on.
I don’t have much experience with sucking cock. I’ve done it a few times — usually under duress because my ex would get pissy or sulky if I didn’t do it — but I’m no expert.
I slowly take his cock into my hand, and it’s only then that I realize I’m shaking. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want anything to do with this. I just want to be left alone.
Too fucking bad , I tell myself. I need to just get it over with.
I start to stroke him, looking only at his cock instead of up at his face. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, as I work to get him hard. The tattoo expands with his cock, and I realize I’m looking at a whip coiled around his shaft.
It extends up his belly, and I briefly wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes.
I could hope I’ll never find out, but I know I won’t be that lucky.
Konstantin grabs my hair and tugs it sharply. “Mouth open, Sierrochka.”
I think I like being called zaya more than this strange derivative of my name. It’s not as though I think it’s an affectionate gesture, after all.
I slowly open my mouth, and Yuri slides the head of his cock over my lips. I whimper, not wanting to taste it, not wanting to feel it, and I’d pull back if it wasn’t for Konstantin’s grasp on my hair.
“You bite, whore, and I knock your teeth out,” Yuri growls at me. He grabs my jaw and squeezes my cheeks hard enough to hurt. “You understand?”
I don’t recognize this angry man at all. This isn’t the same guy I’d flirted with back then.
I nod, which doesn’t seem to be enough because he squeezes again, even harder. “Yes,” I try to say, even though it comes out as a muffled sound instead of resembling the word.
It must satisfy him, though, because he lets go of me long enough to shove his cock right past my lips and over my tongue, all the way to the back of my throat. I’ve always had a sensitive gag reflex, and thankfully, my ex had been smaller than average.
That had really explained a lot, honestly, though why I’m thinking about that right now, I’m not even sure.
I still don’t like giving blowjobs.
Yuri pauses with his pelvis right against my nose. I try to breathe through my nose, but his cock is blocking my airways, and I instinctively start to swallow. I want to pull my head back, but Konstantin is still there, holding my head in place.
Yuri groans. It’s not until I’m making distressed sounds that he pulls out, and I cough and sputter in an attempt to get air back into my lungs.
“Her throat feels nice when it’s convulsing around me,” Yuri says, thrusting forward again. Thankfully it’s not nearly as deep this time, and I work hard to make sure I breathe.
“Don’t choke her to death,” Nikolai says as I struggle, and he laughs.
The bastard actually fucking laughs , like it’s funny.
Konstantin strokes my scalp with the hand that isn’t gripping my hair. “It would be a shame to kill her now. She hasn’t found her father’s secret stash yet.”
I try to pull off, but Yuri makes it clear that he’s letting me breathe. I don’t think for a second that I could stop them if they decided to end me like this, to steal away the last of my breaths by fucking me.
What does that say about them beyond the fact that they’re fucking monsters, fucking psychopaths?
Yuri strokes my jaw while he thrusts into me. I have to breathe through my nose, but that also means I can smell him. The only thing I can see or smell or taste is Yuri.
There’s a hint of soap, which means he must have showered recently. After he got out of jail? Nice of him to get clean before he fucked my face.
“Fuck,” Yuri mutters, and his movements speed up.
I close my eyes, but he suddenly pushes against my eyelid.
“Look at me,” Yuri orders. “Eyes on me, whore.”
I open my eyes, dazed and focusing on breathing more than anything, and my eyes meet his. There’s such cruelty in them, such hatred , and I think that it runs deeper than my brother sending him to jail.
I whimper around him.
Nikolai murmurs something in Russian, but he’s not laughing anymore.
Yuri keeps staring me in the eyes as his thrusting gets more erratic, and his lips parting is the only warning I get before heat floods into my mouth. I make a sound in protest, the bitterness spreading across my tongue, and I try to pull back.
I’m denied that, of course .
“Nikolai,” Yuri barks. “Fill her mouth before she swallows.” His glare turns harder. “And you’d better not fucking spit, whore.”
It makes me want to spit out of contrariness alone, but they’re already this dangerous and fucked up, and that won’t exactly help the situation. I give a quick nod, and they reposition themselves so Nikolai is the one standing in front of me.
He’s already erect, stroking his cock and shoving it against my mouth. “Don’t swallow, either,” he warns. “Just keep as much of it as you can in your mouth.”
I want to protest; it’s impossible to just keep it in my mouth when he’s shoving his way past my lips, but I realize soon enough that it makes cum drizzle down from my lips to my chin, suspended in the air along with my spit. They’re making a mess of me.
They really do just see me as a whore.
I blink, and a few tears slip down my face. Yuri reaches out to wipe one away, and he scoffs.
“What do you have to cry about? Be grateful we’re feeding you cock and not bullets.”
I’d call him a dick, but that’s not good enough. I don’t think there are any cuss words in English that describe him. Maybe there are in Russian.
I guess I hope I live long enough to find out.
Nikolai keeps fucking into my mouth, and every time I try to swallow, he smacks the cheek Yuri isn’t touching. “Just kneel there and be a fuckdoll,” he says. “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? To be our little fucktoy.”
No. I’m here for more than that.
I have to be here for more than that, because I don’t know if I can handle the three of them teaming up to take me over and over again like this.
Suddenly I feel something hot and hard against my head, and I realize with dread that Konstantin is dragging his cock over it.
“Hurry up, Nikolai,” Konstantin says. “I want to give her a taste of my cock, too.”
What will I do if they decide to pass me around instead of keeping me to themselves? Fucking hell, I don’t think I could handle it.
Nikolai’s cock starts to swell in my mouth, just enough to let me know he’s about to climax. “Don’t. Swallow.” He growls the words, his mood reflecting Yuri’s now, something dark and serious and intense .
I relax my jaw as much as I can, but that still doesn’t make it easier when he shoots into me, that harsh bitter taste overwhelming my senses. Some of it dribbles out of my mouth, and more tears spill from my eyes.
Konstantin lets go of my head and moves around to my front. As soon as Nikolai pulls out, Konstantin shoves his massive cock inside, making me gag almost immediately. He groans loudly. “So sloppy. Used.” He laughs and glances at Yuri. “Well-loved, we should say.”
I don’t see the amusement in that.
I have to watch my teeth, working my jaw open more as Konstantin plunges his cock into my mouth over and over again. This just keeps getting worse, somehow, and I almost wish they’d just fuck me and be done with it instead of forcing me to participate in what they’re doing.
Yuri grabs my hair and goes to stand behind me, the way Konstantin had done before. I can’t see him anymore, but I can feel his fingers tensing and relaxing in my hair, hinting at pain but not going farther.
“You really did mark her,” Yuri says with a strange tone in his voice. “Without me.” He reaches down to tug at the shirt I’m wearing.
“We can mark her again,” Nikolai says, but even he sounds uncertain. “You can tattoo her with your name.” He adds something in quick Russian while Konstantin just fucks my face, driving his cock into my throat on the downstroke and coming back up to allow me to breathe.
Yuri argues back in Russian, then he pulls hard on the shirt to free it from the make-shift belt. He exposes my breasts, and with them, the awful mark that’s healing but is still red and tender .
“Kotya, this is our mark. I’m part of this too,” Yuri growls. “But go on. Mark her even more.”
Konstantin groans and shakes his head. “She’ll swallow me along with both of you.”
I whine, not wanting to swallow even more of their cum. At the same time, if it makes this over with sooner, I’ll deal with it.
Ha.
Like I have a choice either way.
Nikolai makes an annoyed sound, but I can’t see him beyond Konstantin.
Konstantin’s movements get more erratic and I brace myself for that last flood of bitter liquid. Before that happens, though, Yuri suddenly pulls me back.
The cum that’s been in my mouth sloshes out, right as Konstantin comes. His semen splatters all over my face.
I let out a disgusted sob.
“Yura!” Konstantin complains, but he grips his cock and aims it so that he keeps spraying over me.
I try to pull back even more, to avoid getting more of that cum on my face, but Yuri holds me in place. I want to speak — to beg, maybe, for this to be over — but I don’t want to taste this anymore.
“Marked,” Yuri says as he rubs my chin, like he’s trying to really grind the cum into my skin. “Our whore.”
“Yes. Ours ,” Nikolai emphasizes. “That mark means all of us. Our cum on her… Was she a good present after all?”
Yuri lets go of me and goes to sit on the bed. His fierce gaze is still on me. “She’s fine, I guess. Cheap whore. But at least she’s hot.”
Nikolai snorts. “We wouldn’t have taken her if she hadn’t been hot.” I think it’s him who pats my head. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting any of Konstatin’s cum to drip down into my eyes. “Just think, zaya. You’d either be free or dead if you were ugly. Too bad you’re beautiful.”
Konstantin makes a derisive sound and zips himself up. “Don’t lie. She’d be dead.”
“It would’ve been more fun to make her think she’d have had a chance,” Nikolai grumbles. “Open your eyes. Look up at us. ”
I have to wipe at my eyes, trying to get their disgusting semen off my face, but I look up at them.
My tormentors.
My captors.
Konstantin pats me on the head. “Don’t worry, Sierrochka. I said I would not kill you if you did as we asked. I won’t go back on my word—unlike your family.”
I flinch, bowing my head slightly.
There’s nothing I can say to make things better.