13. Kirill
Chapter 13
Kirill
All my raging and slamming myself against the bars has been for nothing. I’m still trapped in this fucking cage, while my father is upstairs with Mackenzie.
I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting to tear them from my own skull at the thought of what he might be doing with her. If he lays a hand on her, I swear I’ll cut them from his arms. I hate even the thought of him seeing her naked, though I know he can do far worse.
At least they didn’t shut the door at the top of the stairs and the lights have been left on. It’s only a tiny glimmer of hope, but it’s one to hold on to. It means she’s coming back. We won’t be kept in this fucking place forever. If my father wants this wedding to happen, then our circumstances will change.
I can’t afford to be complacent, though.
What is it they say about lights at ends of tunnels? That sometimes they turn out to be trains.
Movement comes in the doorway and my father reappears with Mackenzie. She’s still got that damned collar on, but now she’s wearing a white dress. Her hair is wet and a shade darker than its usual honey blonde, and she seems uncomfortable, but not traumatized. Her blue eyes are wide and haunted, but she’s not screaming and crying and trying to get away.
I take that as a positive sign that he hasn’t hurt her.
Grigoriy hauls her back down the stairs. “What do you think of your new bride?”
He directs that question at me.
I hold my gaze on our Duchess. “She’s beautiful. She’s always beautiful.”
She also doesn’t deserve this. She should be a regular college student, hanging out with her friends, drinking coffee and complaining about her tutors. Instead, her tutor groomed her and abused her. She then had to run, and the poor girl ran right into our arms.
Now she’s where she is because of us. Because of me .
She shouldn’t be wearing a cheap-ass wedding dress, a collar around her neck, standing in a goddamned basement.
And she shouldn’t be made to marry me.
Her chest hitches in a small sob.
“Did he touch you?” I have to ask.
I don’t want to hear the answer, but I can’t not know. If I want to be there for her, then I need to know everything, no matter how bad things get.
But she shakes her head, and I almost collapse with relief.
A male voice comes from the top of the stairs. “Go on, Father. Down the stairs. Everyone is waiting for you.”
A short man in his sixties appears. He’s clearly anxious, his expression troubled. When he takes the first couple of steps, I see why. Rufus is behind him with a gun aimed at his head.
Fuck. Are we seriously going to get married with a priest at gunpoint? Each time I think this can’t possibly get more messed up, things step up a level.
Grigoriy moves away from Mackenzie and comes to the cage. He unlocks the gate, swings it open, and steps back.
“Come on, then. This is your big moment. Don’t let me down, son.”
I’m just grateful to be out of the cage. Though it wasn’t like the bars stopped me seeing out, being free of them makes me weak with relief. Now, if only I can get us both out of this basement, but I guess it’s going to take marrying Mackenzie to do that.
I’m not hesitant for my sake. I’d happily marry her tomorrow, but she’s already told me, clear as day, that this isn’t what she wants. I know she’s worried about Dom and Tino, too, about what will happen to the four of us. She’s right to be worried. They also made their feelings clear. The bruises Dom gave me when he found out I’d proposed have barely had the chance to fade.
My father’s gaze drops down my body, and then back up to my face. “We should have gotten you a suit, but it’s too late now. Come here. Stand beside your bride.”
I do as I’m told, standing beside her, in front of the priest. She doesn’t look at me, and I can’t blame her. Don’t young girls grow up with the idea of how they want their weddings to be? Don’t they play dress-up, and imagine who their future husbands will be? If Mackenzie ever did that, I guarantee she never pictured things going like this. In a basement, with a terrified priest, and a collar around her neck.
I close my eyes and duck my head. Shame soaks through me, into my skin, penetrating my muscles, sinking right down to the bone.
What kind of man am I? I’d fucked her while she’d been cuffed to the bars by a collar, naked apart from her panties. I’d fucked her while two strange men were watching, and then they’d come over her, too.
How could I do that to her? I’m supposed to love her, and instead of protecting her, I was the one who needed her comfort.
I want to punch myself in the side of the head, to throw myself against the bars of the cage until I break my bones. I’m a pathetic excuse of a man. How could I allow her to be desecrated like that, when she was already dripping with the cum of two other men, and she’d had my semen still leaking from between her thighs?
Those same men are down in the basement with us now. They stare at her with hungry eyes. She’s a thing to them—a vessel to be used—and I treated her no differently.
But even as I’m thinking these things, my body reacts to her presence, blood flowing to my cock. Jesus Christ. When she was collared and on her knees, covered in cum, all I’d wanted to do was to grab her hair and thrust my cock into her mouth and fuck her face while tears flowed down her cheeks. I’d wanted to come down her throat, and fill her mouth, so she coughed and choked, and my cum trickled from the corners of her lips.
Realization hits me hard and fast. I’m the same as him. The same as the man I hate. Deep down, I share his sickness. In time, will I become him? If I do, I’m ruining her by marrying her.
“Let’s begin,” Grigoriy says to the priest.
My head snaps up. “No.”
She’s too good for this. She deserves so much better than me. Better than any of us.
“Kirill,” she says, her voice breathy, “it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. None of this is fucking okay.”
My father unholsters his weapon. “Do not push me, Kirill. I said you will marry your woman and give us an heir. You need to grow up and become a man.”
“No,” I say again.
Mackenzie’s small hand slips into mine. I can’t help but look at her. Tears shine in her eyes.
“Please, let’s just do it,” she begs. “We can figure everything else out after.”
My heart hitches. A part of me wanted this—to have Mackenzie say she’d marry me—but I didn’t plan for it to happen like this.
“Just begin,” my father commands the priest.
“Errr…ummm…” the man stutters.
“Just do it!” Grigoriy roars, and we all jump in response.
The priest begins to speak, but it’s in Russian.
“In fucking English.” My father looks like he’s about to murder the priest. Surely to God, even he wouldn’t go that far.
The priest begins the service again, this time in English. The service sounds real, but I can barely hear what he’s saying over the rush of blood in my ears and my heart pounding. Mackenzie’s hand is still in mine, and she squeezes my fingers, and I squeeze hers in return.
“—if anyone here has any reason why these two should not be married…” the priest continues.
I almost laugh at that. The man still has a gun pointed at his head. No one voices any concerns.
“Do we have the rings?” he asks, his eyes darting in one direction and then the other.
“Motherfucker,” Grigoriy curses. “We forgot the fucking rings.”
His men rush in. “Here, here. Use ours.” Jewelry is pulled from fingers and handed over. They’ll all be huge on Mackenzie, but I guess it’s the least of her concerns.
Grigoriy nods at the priest. “Continue.”
But, before he gets the chance, Igor appears at the top of the stairs and clears his throat. “Boss, there is a problem.”
Grigoriy’s eyes flare with anger at the interruption. “What is it, Igor?”
“We have company.”
“Fuck. Just keep going. Say the words. Do you Mackenzie take Kirill Stepanov…” My father has taken over, waving his hand in a circling motion to encourage the priest to keep going.
He does. “Do you Mackenzie—” He cuts off, clearly realizing he doesn’t know Mack’s surname.
“Kingsland,” she fills in.
“Do you Mackenzie Kingsland take Kirill Stepanov to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
She presses her lips into a thin line and nods. “I do.”
“And do you Kirill Stepanov take Mackenzie Kingsland to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
I open my mouth, but from somewhere outside comes the pop-pop-pop of gunfire. To anyone else, they might be mistaken for fireworks, or perhaps a car backfiring, but there’s no doubt in my mind what they are. My heart lifts. Gunfire means someone else is here, and there’s only one explanation I can think of.
Domenic and Valentino have found us.
“I do!” my father roars. “Say it! I do.”
I open my mouth to speak, but there’s a massive bang from upstairs and my words are lost to the noise and chaos.