Page 38

Story: The Bratva's Captive

I swallowed hard and stared right back at him.
This man who’d murdered somebody.
This guy who’d kidnapped me.
My savior was a killer.
I couldn’t gauge whether I was in danger.
And all I could get hung up on, holding my breath and so confused why I was here at all, was that he knew my name.
“Do you hear me?” he asked, that growly rasp of a whisper so taunting but bold. “You’re not going anywhere.”
That settled that question. He hadn’t just taken me from the club for the hell of it. I was his captive.
And he truly believed what he said. He would be the one to determine my departure. It would be useless to argue with him on that point. Clearly, he had all the power to do as he pleased when he swooped in to take me from my workplace. A quick glance down at his arms locked tight as he bracketed me to the bed reminded me how physically strong he was. This close to him and feeling his body heat, I was further reminded of his masculine strength from when he’d thrust into me in the VIP room.
With a cringe I didn’t show, I hated that I’d passed out. I could’ve screamed for help at the club. A bouncer or another dancer might’ve cared to intervene. That moment of unconsciousness was when I wasn’t in control of my fate.
Still, I was so tired, so hungry and thirsty and dead-ass exhausted that I knew I wouldn’t get far if I tried to overpower him now, wherever we were.
Think, Sloane. Think.Sitting here silently wouldn’t do me any good.
Other than admitting he was stronger than me like this, I racked my brain to figure out something else that might help me.
“Why?”
He didn’t flinch at my simple question.
I dragged my gaze back up to his dark eyes.Why?That had to be the strongest question I could ask.
“Why are you keeping me here?”
Nothing.
“Why did you take me like that?”
He leaned back then, but he didn’t leave my side. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his hip touching my leg under the covers, he gave me some space. With that intense, smoldering, and inquisitive stare he gave me, I was tempted to lash out and demand some fucking answers.
“I took you from that club because I didn’t care for how that man was treating you.”
I raised my brows, surprised he had replied instead of being a psycho freak pretending to be a mute. “Lenny? He was my boss. And youkilledhim.”
He shrugged.
My mouth hung open.Like it was nothing.
“Why should that upset you? He was beating you.”
I shook my head, bewildered and feeling so lost that I struggled to find a starting point of how to reply. Why did it upset me that he killed someone? Oh, maybe because killing people was wrong?
“What do you mean? You killed him!”
He resumed that silent stare as if he had to figuremeout.
Death didn’t faze him. I saw it in the coldness in his eyes. I didn’t know much about this man—only that he’d made me come harder than I ever had in my life and that he belonged to the Ivanov family.
Oh, and he would go to the extremes of killing my boss just to keep me safe from a beating.