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I’m not about to become this psychopath’s wife.

Had my father not just committed suicide or said, “They wanted you,” I’d swear these men barged into the wrong home.

“You have three seconds before I blast that fucking desk with enough bullets to murder an entire fucking army,” he warns, his patience thinning. “You don’t want to piss me off,nevesta.”

I don’t move.

“Seychas!” the man screams.

Now.

I know my fair share of Russian.

Learning new languages was my father’s form of bonding.

Reality sets in, and chills run down my spine.

I either have to give myself up or wait for this madman toblast the fucking desk with bullets. Standing, I raise my arms, and inch by inch, the men come more into my view.

I was right.

They are straight out of your nightmares.

And they’ve come to make mine a reality.

“There she is,” the man in the middle, who appears to be in charge, says.

His cold eyes travel down my body. As they move back up, they reach mine, and his lips form a sinister smile.

A smile that promises destruction.

“My bride.” He releases his hold on the gun to rub his palms together in satisfaction.

He’s terrifying but—dare I say it—also attractive.

Tall, dark blond hair, a sharp nose, and a thick scar that runs along his jawline.

“The cunt is prettier in real life than her pictures,” the burly man to his right comments, licking his thin lips.

Thecunt callerisn’t as attractive as his boss, and points are deleted for his comment and the way he’s creepily staring at me. If I wasn’t terrified for my life, I’d give them all a lecture on how to speak to women.

“You’re one lucky motherfucker, Dima,” the creep adds. “I wish I were getting her. Maybe you’ll share.”

Dima’s glare cuts to the guy. “You suggest that again, and I’ll rip your fucking tongue out and feed it to my dog.”

The man ducks his head. “Sorry, boss.”

I use this opportunity to sweep my gaze over my father’s desk, searching for a weapon. I tiptoe forward when my attention drops to the gun in his limp hand.

“Don’t you even fucking think about it,” Dima warns, creeping closer.

I glare at him, stumbling back and running into the bookcase.

Dima smirks, as if a terrified human is his favorite sight. “I can’t wait to have my fun with you. You look like a fighter.”

“You lay a hand on her, I’ll fucking gut you and your men and feed you to your dog,” a recognizable voice snarls behind them. “She’s mine.”

I slap my hand to my chest to tame my wild heart.