Chapter 35 Sora
SORA
They blindfolded me before throwing me in a van. I’ve lost track of time—how long we’ve been driving, how far we’ve gone. The leather seat beneath me is sticky with something—blood, I think, but I don’t know if it’s mine.
My wrists are zip-tied behind my back. Every bump in the road sends pain lancing through my stomach, and all I can think—over and over—is Please don’t let it be hurting the baby.
Leo doesn’t want me. He made that perfectly clear. But the child growing inside me… this baby never asked for any of this. And if I have to crawl through fire to protect them, I will.
The van finally screeches to a halt, and I brace for impact, my breath catching in my throat.
A door rolls noisily open. Rough hands yank me forward, and the blindfold slips up my forehead slightly, revealing a warehouse.
Dim. Cold. Damp.
Steel rafters. Concrete floors.
One of the men—massive, bald, with a jagged scar bisecting his lip—grabs my arm and drags me forward. My heart hammers.
“You were right, Lenka. This will be better, not looking over our shoulders to make sure the Yakuza are watching.” The ringleader of the group leers back at me as I stumble behind him, barely able to stay on my feet. “Now we can take our time with her.”
From what I’ve gathered, the Bratva were supposed to be my family’s allies. At least, that’s what I thought. But now? Now, they look at me like I’m nothing but a plaything. It would seem that agreement only lasted until the Chiaroscuros fell.
“She’s feistier than she looks,” the scarred one mutters, shoving me down onto a chair. “Check if she’s packing anything.”
One of them pats me down roughly as another ties my ankles to the chair legs. My hands are still cuffed behind me. The room is unseasonably cool, but sweat trickles down my spine.
“She’s clean,” the man with the thick black beard confirms, straightening to stand beside his three companions.
“So, what do we want to do with her?” the shorter, stockier one asks, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
“The Pakhan said to make an example of her and drop her body somewhere the new Don will be sure to find her if he ever turns back up.”
My stomach knots, goosebumps rippling across my flesh at the meaning behind their words.
Because beneath the promise of imminent torture and death, I pick up on a key fact. ‘If the new Don turns back up’ would indicate two things. Leo didn’t just survive the attack. He got away—and his father did not.
While that shouldn’t be the most pressing matter on my mind, it floods me with relief. And knowing Leo is safe gives me the burst of courage I need to try and find a way out of my dire situation.
My voice is hoarse, but I find it anyway as I dare to call attention to myself. “Leo doesn’t care about me. You’re wasting your time.”
The scarred man tilts his head. “Strange. That’s not what your brother said.”
“Whatever he told you, he’s wrong. I left. Leo told me never to come back, that he would kill me himself if I ever did.”
“And yet,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “he threw himself into the water to save you when he could have let you drown. That doesn’t scream indifference, does it?”
I flinch, and he smiles thinly.
But I have to keep trying. “If you want to hurt Leo, you’re wasting your effort on me.”
“You think this is about effort?” His voice hardens. “The Chiaroscuros humiliated our clan. They took what didn’t belong to them, and now we’re going to take everything from them. Their territory, their home, and their pretty little wives.”
The black-bearded Russian chuckles, his amusement making my skin crawl, and icy dread floods my veins.
“We already killed the blonde one,” he says.
Oh, God, Genevieve. We weren’t particularly close, but she was one of the few people who tried to make me feel welcome in the Chiaroscuro home right from the beginning.
“Yeah, too bad the Yakuza finished her quickly,” the stocky Russian responds.
“But the look on her husband’s face when they did? Mmm.” My fourth captor, a thinner man with soulless, pale-blue eyes, smirks as he gives a sound of deep satisfaction.
“And this time, we’ll take it nice and slow.”
They step closer, converging around me as they leer with unadulterated anticipation. Panic surges through my chest, and I scramble for any way to deter them—even if it’s a lie.
“My family will come for you,” I say quickly. “They won’t let you get away with killing me. I’m too valuable.”
“Valuable?” The scarred man gives a harsh laugh. “You’re nothing more than Leonardo Chiaroscuro’s little fuck toy now. You might have been valuable before he touched you, but no one’s going to want his sloppy seconds.”
“Besides,” the black-bearded man adds, “who’s to say they’ll ever find out we were the ones responsible for your disappearance? Anything could have happened to you, walking around a battlefield like that.”
My stomach turns, my heart hammering in its effort to flee my ribcage. “Please,” I whisper. “I’m pregnant.”
But the men just smirk. One laughs.
The scarred man’s expression doesn’t change. “And?”
“I’m begging you,” I say. “If you kill me, it will kill my baby.”
The scarred man crouches in front of me, his grin cruel. “You think that makes you less of a target, you little Mafia whore? You’re carrying the next generation of Chiaroscuro filth. That means you die twice.”
“Leo doesn’t even know!” I cry, panic rising in my throat. “I didn’t tell him.”
The bearded man chuckles. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll be sure to pin a note to your chest. Who knows? Maybe he’ll cry when he finds out. But in the end, he’ll die like the rest. And your baby will never draw breath.”
“You’re an animal,” I hiss, my fear and loathing overwhelming my better sense as I lash out with the only weapon I have left.
The scarred man backhands me.
The world spins, my ears ringing as blood fills my mouth. I force myself not to sob, even as fear and pain threaten to consume me.
But I won’t give him the pleasure of knowing how terrified I am.
My split throbs, my cheek swelling, and I twist my wrists frantically, trying to slip free of the sharp plastic holding me tight as my mind races.
Leo might not love me. He may never have. But if there’s even the smallest chance he knows what they’ve done—if he knows I’m here…
Would he come for me?
No. He wouldn’t. Not after everything.
The only way out of this is if I can find a way, and I won’t let them hurt my baby.
“Where should we start?” the stocky Russian asks, his grin spreading wider.
The soulless, pale-eyed one flicks out his knife, making my heart stutter. “I say we see what’s underneath the little slut’s dress since no one will shut up about it.”
The scarred one chuckles. “I like the way you think, Gleb.”