Page 24

“W-Why am I here?”
I ask both men in front of me softly, my voice small as it trembles.
I hate how weak it makes me sound.
Neither one answers me.
Instead, they simply stare at one another. The sound of deep breathing fills the silence of the room, and the same man who’s been speaking suddenly reaches out, his fingertips brushing against my cheek in a soft way, clearly a mockery of gentleness.
I flinch instinctively, pressing back into the wall, but there's nowhere to go, and nowhere to escape.
“Don’t worry your pretty head about that, beauty.”
He murmurs, his eyes locked on my lips which have now curled into my mouth.
As my breathing grows uneven, I feel tears blurring my vision when he begins stroking along my cheekbone.
The other twin leans in closer, his eyes narrowing as he watches the scene unfold in front of him.
Something is muttered under his breath to his twin, but the words aren’t in English.
My entire body freezes as the foreign words bounce in the air between us, sounding harsh and guttural.
I know I heard it before.
The accent.
But after waking up, they sound a little different.
And now that they’ve switched languages…
I’m able to confirm exactly which language it is that they’re speaking.
Russian.
My heart races in my chest.
Even though we’re not really involved in the Mafia any more, I know Papa still talks to some of the members, and I know that there are others he absolutely refuses to speak with; those who argued that the alliance between the Russians and the Italians should be respected even after all that was done.
I don’t know the full details, but I do know this: The Russian Bratva had a hand in our family relocating to England.
“W-What are you saying?”
I whisper softly.
They’re both too focused on each other now to pay me any attention. The man in front of me murmurs something as his hand drops from my face, and his twin chuckles darkly. The sound sends a shiver through my body.
They’re both too close, their presence is too suffocating, and the way that they’re looking at me…it doesn’t seem like I'm their captive; it seems like I’m something precious, something that they can’t let go off.
My breathing hitches as I force myself to speak again.
“Tell me what you want with me.”
A glance is exchanged between the pair of twins, a silent conversation passing between them both.
When they turn to look back at me, my heart sinks.
“You.” The one who’s been talking all this time says, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “We want you.”