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“And I’m fucking Russian, not Irish, bitch. Bratva, but I grew up in that miserable place. Callahan Murphy interfered with every single thing I tried to do. The reason I couldn’t get a real foothold to be a superpower there is because of him. And I’m not going to be happy until the world is rid of those Murphy cockroaches. All of them. Including you. But first…”

He twists my nipple again and pulls it, making me scramble up as searing pain lances through me. I whimper.

“Let me taste those beauties. Your cunt, too.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss. Then I knee him hard in the balls.

He screams and punches me in the stomach as he staggers back. “Fucking bitch cunt.”

Kneeing him was a stupid move, but I fucking hate him. I pull my dress back into place, snarling as he comes at me.

I dodge around a box and shove it between us.

“You think a box will fucking save you?”

I don’t. He has at least three men, all of them heavily armed. He’s armed, too.

He could shoot me. Hell, he could rape me, too, hurt me like he’s threatened. But he’s not going to.

Not yet.

“Callahan’s not going to let you live if you hurt me.”

He laughs. “Let me? Oh, Lucia, he’s not letting me do a thing. I’m going to kill him and his family. You’re going to die, too. But first, I have a deal in the making. When that comes through, I’m luring Murphy to a place of my choosing, and then I’m going to have him held down so he can watch while I rape you, ruin you, and then carve you up. Then I’ll kill each of his brothers, and then, finally, him.”

I stare at him and my knees give way as fear clutches my heart. I grip the box tighter and glance down at what’s inside. By the grace of God, I picked the one with knives in it to protect me from Paddy. Ugly knives, sharp ones. Hunting knives. And some of them aren’t packaged.

Oh, what I’d give for the element of surprise, to grab one and kill him before he can even think of touching his gun. But his eyes are glued to me, and he could get his gun in seconds.

“His men will hunt you down.”

“Fuck them. I’m bratva.”

But that doesn’t matter, does it? I think about Dad and my life in my gilded mafia cage. Dad’s either crossed paths with or done deals with mafia and bratva organizations. Real criminal families and factions have rules; they follow them. And they have networks.

Taking me is a move that declares war. I know Dad’s network is big, and Callahan has a pretty sizeable one, too. Since teaming up with Dad, it must be huge. He could bring hellfire down on the bratva and start an explosive battle.

And knowing my husband, he’d win, too.

“You might be from a bratva family, but you’re not in the inner circle.”

“How would you know? You’re what? Eighteen?”

I don’t move closer to him, but I stay close to the box, like it can somehow protect me. And I wish… I wish I hadn’t taken Dad’s call. I wish I hadn’t left the house. I wish I was home with Callahan. Safe and warm.

I want him to save me, but the last thing I want is to put him in danger. I want him safe. I want all the Murphys safe. And?—

Oh God.

Am I freaking in love with Callahan?

I swallow. “I’m old enough to know how it all works. You’re starting a war by taking me. My father?—”

He starts laughing. “You don’t know shit.”

“I know he and Callahan have an iron-clad deal. Hurt me and they’ll come after you.”

“I’m going to have fun spoiling your little fairy-tale ending.”