Chapter 5 - Masha
No matter how I thrashed, there was no getting out of the chains. They were more suited for a wild tiger than any human, and I had a feeling Anatoli was going overboard to really drive home the fact I was in the very position I’d had him in not so long ago.
It wouldn’t seem long to him, anyway. The days had dragged by to me, feeling like I’d never find him and make him pay. I rushed it, and now I was the one with the bill. And August and Vik had paid the ultimate price.
Tears burned my eyes, but I couldn’t fall apart with grief and guilt. We were Bratva, and our lives could be snuffed out at any time. They knew it as well as I did, but my throat still clogged as I struggled not to sob over losing them.
Fury that I’d been caught was easier than sorrow, and I had plenty of fury.
Not just that he somehow figured out my every move, but that I hadn’t foreseen his trap.
And that’s what it was. All of it. Showing himself in a place where he knew I’d get word that he was in LA, staying in a hotel instead of a safe house, leaving the damn hotel so many times in one day that there’d be no way I wouldn’t have spotted him.
He probably knew what room I was in, the brilliant bastard.
No one knew I had headed to LA. The rental car might eventually be traced back to Vik’s fake ID, but how long would that take?
Anatoli had eluded not just me, but my whole family and their network of spies for three months, and was only found because he wanted to be found.
It made my stomach roll over to admit how smart he was and how well orchestrated everything had been for me to wind up chained in this shack.
No one was going to find me. This was it.
I was going to die, and it wasn’t going to be nice and easy, either.
Growing up in the Bratva, I’d been in some pretty tight scrapes.
I’d had multiple broken bones, even been grazed by a bullet.
I had worked hard to become an indispensable member of my family’s organization, and I had the scars to show for it.
I always knew a violent death was a possibility, and it wasn’t so much death I feared, but regret that it would be at Anatoli’s hands.
Okay, enough. I had to stop the quitter mindset, or he’d get what he wanted before ever laying another hand on me. I wasn’t going to accept shit. When Anatoli came back, I’d go out with a fight. Maybe even gain the upper hand and see him dead at my feet at last.
That was a satisfying thought. Before all this, I planned to kill him relatively quickly, not give him a chance to disappear again. I wanted to right a wrong, not make it a big, drawn-out thing. Now I was going to make him suffer for this degradation.
I rattled the chains again, shouted again, though I knew both were futile.
Even if I managed to get free from the bed, he took great pleasure in telling me he had the place under video surveillance and would know instantly if I left.
He’d rigged a bomb at the trailer he took CJ to when he kidnapped her, so for all I knew, I’d be blown to shreds if I so much as opened the front door.
All I could do was lie there and think about August and Vik, which was worse than wondering what was in store for me. The best thing would have been to get some sleep and conserve my energy for any chance I might get to turn the tables, but my mind wouldn’t stop reeling.
Anatoli was my first shot at leading an interrogation.
He had information we needed to make sure he was no longer going to be a threat.
I had my trepidations that I wouldn’t have the stomach for it, because it wasn’t something I enjoyed watching.
I could remain calm and cold on the outside, but each scream had me inwardly jolting.
The sound of bones cracking, of grown men sobbing, the smell of singed flesh.
None of my cousins seemed to be overly bothered by these things.
A few of them were alarmingly good at doling out pain.
Was I up to it? Did I even want the job? As usual, I wanted to prove myself. I might have gone a bit overboard. Or maybe it was Anatoli’s refusal to break. As much as I hated him for it, I couldn’t help but admire his strength. And I hated myself for that, and just went harder.
Now it was my turn, and there was no way I could convince myself he’d go easy on me. Not after what I put him through.
It was dark when he returned. The sound of the car door slamming jolted me upright, unaware that I had dozed off. I was jerked back onto the grimy mattress by the chains, and after a moment of disorientation, everything came rushing back.
This was it.
As soon as he entered, he snapped on the overhead light, a bare bulb that was much too bright for the small space.
Blinking away the glare, I stared at him defiantly.
Afraid? Hell yes. I wasn’t made of stone.
But I’d be damned if I showed it to him.
And I’d go as long as I could without making a peep, although I knew from experience that everyone ended up screaming eventually.
He stared back at me, then stepped aside to let some other people in.
Oh, a party, was it? I thought better of him.
But it wasn’t more of his guards. It was an elderly priest and a stout woman in a navy-blue dress.
Neither one of them seemed the least bit fazed by the woman chained to the bed in the middle of the room.
“This is the bride to be?” the priest asked in a low voice, glancing nervously at Anatoli.
“What?” I yelped.
Only Anatoli kept his eyes glued on me. The priest fumbled with his prayer book while the woman pulled some papers from a tote bag. Anatoli unchained me, keeping such a tight hold on my arm that I feared the bone would snap.
“You’ll both need to sign,” the woman said, keeping her eyes cast down.
It was clear they were both scared out of their wits, but then the priest made sure to remind Anatoli of the fee they had agreed on.
“You dirty son of a—”
“Miss, please,” he said scornfully, as if he wasn’t doing something more unholy than a little swearing. “Let’s get started.”
“What the hell is going on?” I said, even though it was clear when the woman thrust the papers under my nose.
This was a wedding. Out of the myriad things Anatoli could do to me, he was forcing me to marry him. A priest, a witness, papers, everything. The dirty priest even wanted to go through with the vows. I jerked my arm uselessly in Anatoli’s iron grip and refused to say a word.
“She does,” Anatoli answered for me with a grin that made me want to tear him into tiny pieces.
“Then you’re now man and wife,” the priest said. “Come along, Harriet.” The two of them scampered toward the door, the priest turning back before they left. “Oh, you can kiss the bride.”
The door slammed behind them, and their car’s engine revved as Anatoli pulled me close to his hard body, holding on so tight I could hardly draw a breath. Wrapping his hand in my hair, he jerked my head back, lowering his face to mine as he loomed over me.
“Do it and you’re a dead man,” I spat, trying to get my knee up to cripple him. His hold on me was too strong, his face lowering inch by inch, gray eyes gleaming.
His mouth was on mine, hot and fierce, his hand roaming down my back. No amount of struggle could free me. I was married to Anatoli Ovinko. I would have welcomed the torture instead.