11. Mackenzie
Chapter 11
Mackenzie
I swallow, hard, my eyes filling with tears.
He’s actually going to make us do this.
My thoughts go to Dom and Tino. I think how angry they were when they found out Kirill had proposed. They thought he was trying to take me for himself. How will they react when they find out we’re married? Will they see it as the end of us?
I tell myself that worse things could happen. Even if Kirill and I are married, we’ll still be alive. We’ll still be together. But my heart aches at the potential loss of the other two men in my life. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was meant to be the four of us against the world.
Another possibility occurs to me. If Grigoriy takes us both back to Russia once the wedding is done, we might never see them again.
My mind blurs, and I try to think of something to buy us some time.
“Please, let me use the bathroom first,” I blurt. “You can’t expect me to get married like this. I need to shower.”
I don’t think he’s going to let me, preferring to see me standing in a wedding dress, covered in the cum of multiple men, but, to my surprise, he nods.
“Very well, but the collar stays on.”
He approaches the cage and takes a key from his back pocket.
I throw a subtle look to Kirill. If he lets me out of here, he’ll have to undo the cage door. Maybe Kirill can use the moment to run.
But Grigoriy has predicted our action, and, together with the key, he produces a gun. “And don’t try anything stupid.”
Grigoriy uses the key to open the padlock, and I cry with relief to be able to get off my knees. I sink to my backside and stretch out my legs, rubbing at my poor kneecaps. They’re red from the pressure. The backs of my thighs are also tight, and I’ve been fighting cramps in my calves and feet.
Grigoriy bangs on the bars. “Hurry up.”
Slowly, I get to my feet and reach for Kirill. He takes my hand and pulls me in for a hug. I press my forehead to his chest, inhaling the familiar vanilla and spices scent of him.
“Let go of her,” his father commands. “We are going now.”
My heart beats faster, as it dawns on me that I’m about to be separated from Kirill.
I draw a breath, realizing my mistake. “Kirill can come with me.”
Grigoriy huffs air from his nostrils. “No, he can’t. Now, come here.”
He opens the gate. Kirill’s arms tighten around me, but I asked for this. I need to go.
“It’ll be all right,” I reassure him.
“Mackenzie, no.”
He so rarely uses my full name. I squeeze his fingers and then release him and go to his father.
Grigoriy hooks his finger into the ring on the collar and yanks me from the cage. Not wasting any time, he slams the gate shut again and locks his son back in.
“I’ll supervise your showering,” Grigoriy says.
I do my best to shake my head, despite the hold he has on me. “What? No.”
Kirill realizes what this means and slams himself against the bars of the cage. “Keep your filthy eyes off her.”
He only laughs.
Using the collar, he drags me up the stairs. I’ve got my sweatpants back on, but I’m still naked from the waist up. I try to use my arms to hide my breasts, but he moves with such long strides that I end up needing to hold them out to keep my balance. I sense the leery stares of the other men as I pass by. Maybe I shouldn’t care anymore. They’ve already masturbated to Kirill and me fucking, and came on us, too. Worse, they made me spread my legs so they could see that Kirill came inside me, the depraved fuckers. What should I care that they get another eye-full of my tits?
I do care, though. Shame covers me in its sticky coat, but then I shrug it off. No, I won’t be the one to feel shame here. They should. Rage boils through me, and that’s a much more welcome emotion. How dared these men treat us like this? I hate Kirill’s father more than anyone else—more, even, than Paxton, and I never thought I’d hate anyone more than him.
I’m dragged up the stairs and into the basic but clean bathroom. I can’t see any sign of my blood or the discarded implant or the razor blade. Grigoriy still has my wedding dress in his other hand, and he steps into the bathroom with me and shuts the door behind him.
He releases his hold on my collar.
“What are you doing?” I say. “Get out.”
“And leave you in here alone to try to escape or find a weapon? I think not.”
“I’m not going to try to escape. Not while you’ve got Kirill locked down there.”
He eyes me curiously. “You would choose to remain here rather than escape alone?”
“Of course. I’m not leaving him.”
It’s as though I’m speaking another language to him.
“So, if I were to open the door, and tell you to run, you’d stay because of my son?”
I fold my arms over my breasts. “Yes. I’m not leaving without him.”
“Some might say that is stupid, little Kitten.”
Maybe I am being stupid, but I like that he doesn’t understand why I am doing this. I don’t believe for a second that he’s just going to let me run—or, if he did, it would only be so he could chase me down like some kind of fucking sport. But now I’m playing with him, because he doesn’t have any clue what it must be like to sacrifice yourself for another person. The very idea is utterly foreign to him.
“Some might, but others might say it is brave,” I reply.
He laughs. “You misunderstand. I like this choice you make. It is brave, and loyal. I knew you’d make a strong Bratva wife. It is just perhaps over and above what I expected of you.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for Kirill.”
He angles his head. “You love him. You actually love my son.”
His face lights up, and, for the first time, he looks vaguely human.
“Of course I do.”
“Then you will make an excellent bride and mother, and I have done the right thing. You two just needed the push. I’m practically a saint.”
He’s smug in his self-praise, and I stare at him in loathing.
That is all women are in his world—wives and mothers. There to be fucked and bred, and to raise the children. I pity them, and I vow to not end up like them. God, imagine being trapped in a home with him always around like a dark, malign presence.
My bladder is aching, and I need to use the toilet. Just seeing it so close has only intensified the urge. “I need to pee.”
“Then pee,” he says with amusement.
“I’m not going to use the bathroom with you watching.”
He shrugs. “Then do not urinate. It makes no difference to me.”
I ball my fists, digging my nails into my palms. Trying to pretend he’s not there, I yank down my sweatpants and filthy panties, and sink gratefully onto the toilet. For a second, I don’t think I’m able to go, but then I relieve myself with a sigh and cover my face with my hands, my elbows on my knees.
I finish and lift my head to find Grigoriy still watching. Sick bastard.
I don’t want to shower with him in the room, but I also feel disgusting. I’m basically naked already, and there is a thin white shower curtain I can hide behind. Without saying another word to him, I climb into the tub. The shower is positioned on the wall at one end. I’m still wearing my underwear, but I figure I’ll take them off when I’m hidden behind the shower curtain. They could do with a wash, too. I contemplate what to do with them. I don’t want to have to wear soaking wet panties, even if they are clean, but it didn’t look as though the nasty wedding dress Grigoriy brought came with lingerie.
Maybe I’ll just have to go without. What a classy bride I’ll make—a cheap dress and no panties.
The faucet squeaks as I turn it, and there’s a splutter and a gurgle from somewhere deep in the walls. Then water spurts from the showerhead. It’s cold at first, and I suppress a shriek, but in a matter of seconds, it turns warm.
I stand beneath the shower and close my eyes. Water runs over my hair and face, washing away the men’s semen. Quickly, I roll down my underwear and kick them to one side. I pick up the soap and use it on my hair and body. It’s cheap and drying, but it’s all I’ve got, and I’m grateful for it. It feels good to be clean again.
The shower curtain moves.
My eyes ping open.
Grigoriy stands there, staring. I gasp and grab the shower curtain, trying to cover my body, but he tears it from my grip.
“Don’t worry, Kitten. I won’t fuck you. It would confuse things not to know who the baby you’ll soon be carrying belongs to. I just want to make sure you’re doing what you’re supposed to. All nice and clean?”
“Yes,” I mutter, my head down.
“Good. Now get out and put on this dress. We have a wedding to attend.”