Page 21 of Betrayal and Vows (Bratva Vows #2)

Mikhail steps into the room. He’s wearing casual attire, jeans and a sweater. There isn’t a hair out of place. He looks at the chaos around him with satisfaction. The broken furniture, the blood on the walls, his men groaning on the floor and smiles that cold, reptilian smile I hate.

"You always were a fighter, weren't you?" He tilts his head, studying me like I'm an interesting insect. "But you won’t win. You might have enjoyed my wife’s delights, but not anymore. I appreciate you priming her.”

Ice floods my veins. He knows. He's always known.

The pictures.

The surveillance.

It was him.

"Surprised?" His laugh is evil. “I know. I know everything that happens in my house.”

The guards holding me tighten their grip as I surge forward. "You piece of shit?—"

"Tsk, tsk. Such language on my wedding day." He tugs at his sleeves, casual as if we're discussing the weather. "You know, my father wanted to kill you after the wedding. He wanted you to see me marry Lena. But I convinced him to let me handle it. And I’ve decided I don’t want to wait. Although, it’s a shame you won’t get to witness me take my wife the first time. Did I mention I like it rough?”

Red explodes behind my eyes. I fight against the hands holding me, muscles straining until I feel something pop in my shoulder. The pain is immediate. "If you touch her?—"

"Touch her?" He laughs again. "I'm going to do so much more than touch her. I'm going to make her forget you ever existed. She’ll be screaming my name.”

“I will kill you,” I hiss.

“Handle it,” Mikhail says. “I need to make sure my bride is… ready .”

The next thing I know, the back of my skull feels like it’s been cracked in two and then there’s swirling blackness.

And then I’m being dragged. I hear Dmitri, but my eyes won’t open.

The blackness wins. I sink into it knowing I will never see my girl again.

Pain explodes across my jaw and I'm yanked back to consciousness.

My vision swims, everything blurry and wrong. There's blood in my mouth, metallic and thick. I try to lift my hand to my face but my arms won't move. Metal bites into my wrists.

Chains.

I'm chained to a fucking wall.

The basement.

I can smell the damp stone, the mold, the lingering scent of copper that's soaked into the floor over the years.

Blood.

How many people have died down here? How many bodies has Vadim had murdered in here? How many have I killed in this very room?

"Welcome back, sleeping beauty."

I blink hard, trying to focus. One of Mikhail's guards stands in front of me, flexing his knuckles. The same bastard who cracked my skull upstairs.

"What time is it?" My voice comes out as a croak.

He grins. "Worried you're missing something?"

The wedding.

"How long have I been down here?"

"Long enough." He cracks his knuckles again. "The ceremony started twenty minutes ago."

No. No, no, no.

Twenty minutes. She's walking down that aisle right now. In that white dress, toward that altar, toward him. My chest feels like it's caving in.

"She looked beautiful," the guard continues, enjoying my agony. "Like a fucking angel in all that white. Of course, we both know she isn’t innocent. You made sure of that.”

I look around the room, searching for Dmitri.

Did they bring him down here?

Did they kill him?

I know what comes next. And my thoughts aren’t about me dying.

They are about Lena living.

Living with Mikhail.

And the many things he’ll do to her.

I hear footsteps crossing the room. It’s dark down here, leaving the corners in shadows.

And then I see a figure moving toward me.

Mikhail .

He’s dressed for the wedding.

If he’s here…

Is the wedding over?

Maybe it hasn’t started.

And that thought gives me hope I have no business having.

He looks at me, chained and kneeling with a sneer on his lips.

“Comfortable?” he asks.

I spit blood at his shoes. “Go fuck yourself.”

He smiles. “Oh no, Anton. That’s your problem, isn’t it? You were too busy fucking someone else’s bride.”

He walks closer and tosses something onto the floor.

The photos spill out like a death sentence.

Me. Lena. The chapel. The bed. Her mouth on mine. Her body under me.

There are dozens. Angles I don’t recognize. Places I thought were safe. Private.

"These weren’t from Vadim’s little network,” Mikhail says. “These were mine. All mine.”

“You enjoy watching me fuck?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know? I let it happen. Fed it. Gave you time, space, just enough rope. And look what you did with it. How poetic."

“Why let it happen? You aren’t man enough to fight me? You chain me to a fucking wall?”

“Because,” he says, crouching in front of me, “timing is everything. Why waste a bomb when you can wait until the house is full of guests before you light the match?”

He’s proud of himself.

Smug.

Smiling like a man who thinks he’s already won.

And maybe he has.

“Fuck you. She’ll never want you. She’ll never be the willing woman you want.”

“She came to me, Anton. Begged me. On her knees. Said she’d do anything to keep her family from the scandal. Anything.”

I shake my head. “Liar.”

“She thought she was protecting you,” he says, rising. “And I let her think it worked. I promised her if she walked down that aisle, I’d leave you alone.”

He turns, walks a slow circle like a predator playing with its prey. "So I took her. This morning, actually. It’s our wedding day, after all. No rules broken."

Something inside me cracks. The world spins, the floor lurching.

I know Lena. I know her soul. She wouldn’t?—

“You want to know what she tastes like?” he asks, mocking. “She still had your name on her lips when I fucked her. I’ll train her to forget. Every time she fights me, she’ll be punished.”

“You’re lying.”

But my voice wavers. Because she did reject me. She said we couldn’t. She pulled away.

Did she pull away because of him ?

Did he already?—

Mikhail steps closer, leaning down until his mouth is near my ear.

“She likes it gentle, doesn’t she?” he murmurs. “Slow. Worshipful. You taught her that. But I’ll teach her something new. She’ll only know pain. Her punishment for giving herself to you .”

I don’t remember lunging.

But I hit the end of the chain and nearly ripped my own shoulder out trying to get to him.

He laughs.

“God, you make this fun.”

Then he signals the guards.

“Kill him,” he says simply. “Get rid of the body. I’ve got a wedding… a bride-to-be waiting for me.”

He turns on his heel and walks out, just as casually as he walked in.

The door slams shut behind him.

Guns click. The guards raise their weapons.

Now, I die.

But I’m not afraid.

I’m furious .

“Come on, then,” I snarl. “Do it.”

Because if I die here, chained and bleeding, I swear on everything I’ve ever loved?—

I’ll haunt this fucking house until Mikhail chokes on my name.