Page 4 of Captive Vows (The Dubinin Bratva #1)

GAbrIELLA

I hurried home from the dance studio with an urgency to return to my bedroom for privacy to analyze what I’d done.

It felt like I was running from my mistake, but I knew that come tomorrow, when I returned for another class, I’d have to face the music.

I’d need to overcome the judgment and consequent embarrassment from trying to flirt with Oliver to get ahead.

What the hell was I thinking?

Why?

Why would I do such a dumb thing?

It was almost as if I hadn’t been thinking at all. As if all rational thought processes had simply failed to turn on like usual. Desperation had triggered me. But now, I’d have to suffer through the damage.

Focusing on putting one foot in front of the other until I could get home to the tiny apartment I shared with my dad, I relived the humiliation of that damn instructor telling me off. How he rejected me. How he’d mocked me and even reminded me that I was too young for someone in charge like him.

A growl remained trapped in my throat at the injustice of it all. But when I reached the front door and unlocked it, I was bubbling with pent-up rage and irritation. I opened the door, slammed it shut, and rested my brow against it.

Then I let it out. Through clenched teeth, I growled and closed my eyes, wishing I could scream.

I could, but then the neighbors would freak out—again—and call that domestic disputes were going on in the building.

My dad was not a fan of the cops, and I knew better than to give anyone a reason to come to our place.

Breathing hard from the exertion of that growl and still feeling too wired and riled up, I fisted my hands and wished I could punch something.

“Oh, is the little kitten mad?” a man asked as he came from the direction of the kitchen.

I flinched, jarred from my anger. That wasn’t my dad’s voice. Startled at the idea that one of his friends or “business” acquaintances could be here, I spun around with my breath caught in my chest.

It wasn’t my dad. He didn’t seem to be home. But somehow, Tony, one of his supposed friends, had let himself into the apartment when no one else was here. Holding a half-empty bottle of liquor in one hand while he rubbed his crotch with the other, he approached me.

“What the hell?” I snarled.

He didn’t waste a second to pin me to the closed door. This close, I smelled his body odor faintly masked with too much cologne. The mix of scents nauseated me, as did the booze on his breath and the stink of weed he had to have smoked in here.

I dodged him, shoving my hands at his chest.

But he was quicker, slamming his hand to the door and trapping me from stepping sideways.

Panic rose. The urgency I’d hurried home with sharpened into fear. “Leave me alone, Tony.”

My dad’s friends were all assholes, jerks who would openly check me out even if my dad was nearby. They were all misogynistic creeps who didn’t respect women. Deadbeats without jobs who wanted handouts. Losers who drank too much and had nothing to give back to society.

Tony fit every one of those criteria.

“No, I ain’t leaving you alone, little kitten.” He picked up some of my long brown waves resting on my shoulder, curling them around his finger as he grinned down at me. “Now that you are alone.”

Oh, fuck.

This was just what I didn’t need. Not now. Not ever. One of Dad’s friends trying to get close when he wasn’t here fell under the category of my worst nightmares realized.

I never questioned what my dad got up to. He probably sold drugs and stupid things like that. He was too much of a conman to ever want a normal job with a steady paycheck. Yet he was too cocky to be able to stay in an unconventional position of earning income.

His friends and buddies weren’t any better.

They all probably did stupid, illegal shit to pass the time.

For the most part, they didn’t make a habit out of directly bothering me.

I was never here to be near them. I would lock myself in my room and dance, then barely acknowledge them when they were visiting.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I replied hotly, shoving him back again.

I could be proud that I wasn’t a flat, skinny dancer. I had some curves. I had some meat on my bones. I could even call myself athletic.

But Tony had about one hundred pounds on me and was at least two feet taller. Stinking and looming large, he leaned over me as if to remind me that he was bigger and stronger. As he groped at me, I resisted and damned how helpless I was.

Again.

Hopeless.

Helpless.

And he was right.

I was alone. My dad wasn’t here.

“Get off me,” I shouted when he didn’t answer me.

He kept pawing at me, crushing his hips to mine to wedge me against the door.

Between holding my breath to avoid inhaling his godawful stink and slapping him away, I didn’t accomplish anything.

My protests and slaps seemed only to encourage him to try harder.

Spit from his lips smeared on my neck as he tried to kiss me.

“You’re all alone now,” he taunted, unzipping his pants while he used his other hand to shove me up against the closed door again. “Miguel ain’t coming home tonight, little kitten.”

I grunted, kicking out at him as hard as I could. He’d blocked me from smashing my knees into his dick, though, his pale, skinny cock that he got out from his sagging jeans.

Oh, fuck. No. No. Fucking no !

This couldn’t be happening.

This couldn’t be my reality.

I didn’t have time to wonder about what he was saying.

I didn’t want to slow down and think about why my dad wasn’t coming home.

He was probably shit-faced or high, too out of it to make it back to the apartment.

And knowing that I’d be alone and unprotected, Tony thought he could help himself to being here and raping me.

“Get off me!” I shouted it louder.

He didn’t. Laughing harder, he slapped me.

I gasped, lifting my hand to my cheek to ride out the pain, but that was the lapse in fighting back that he must have been counting on.

With my arm up, he could ram it above my head.

Faster and faster, he shoved at my shorts and panties.

Every scrape of his grimy fingers on my skin sickened me.

Each taunting laugh and needy growl of lust threatened to make me pass out from sheer horror and fear of the unthinkable happening.

I couldn’t catch up to understand why and how this was happening.

How my dad could be such a lowlife as to let his friend have a key to get in here.

How my only parent could be such an uncaring idiot not to be concerned about my safety.

Nor my happiness. Expecting him to wonder if I was happy was a ridiculous joke.

But how much worse of a human could he be to not even give a damn about my safety?

About preventing a sicko like Tony from raping me?

Over and over, he yanked at my clothes. It took every bit of my strength to squeeze my legs together.

Staying upright was critical. I couldn’t let him get me down.

He’d cover me and never let me back up—not until he got what he wanted.

Keeping that nasty dick away from me was all I could focus on.

I refused to lose my virginity like this.

He wouldn’t reconsider, too frenzied like a wild, feral predator with this need to rut.

“Stop!” I screamed it that time, wishing the neighbors would hear and call for help.

No rescue would be coming, though. No one knocked on the door to inquire about the sounds of a struggle. I didn’t want to let myself cave to the alarming idea of my dad being dead and never coming back. If I let that fear overpower me, I’d be frozen and useless, too scared to fight back.

Because my life was this unfair and because I had no one to guard me or help me, this was it. It was a fight to the death as far as I was concerned. I would not be defiled, not like this.

To the best of my ability, I fought Tony off and tried to get enough distance between us so I could wrench the door open and escape.

It felt like an eternity of hell, resisting his touches and squirming to break away.

A smearing blur of anxiety and dread gave me the energy to fight, and at last, I managed to pull on the door knob.

I yanked on it as hard as I could, letting the edge of the door smack into Tony’s face as he lunged after me. Spinning quickly, I dropped low to dodge his outstretched arm.

Then I was gone.

Running right back down the hallway with half of the lights out or blinking, I escaped the one place I was supposed to be able to count on.

My home was no longer safe.

Nowhere felt safe.

No one would make me feel safe ever again. My dad never had done well in that department, but after this incident, I knew I couldn’t live with him for much longer. Not when he’d let creeps into the apartment. Not when he’d associate with rapists.

Sprinting down the sidewalk, I scanned my surroundings.

Panic fueled me. The adrenaline rush of fighting Tony back and then fleeing had me primed and aware.

All my senses were heightened. With every movement I spotted and each sound of the city nightlife that I picked up on, I wheezed and strained to steady my breath.

He’s gone.

He’s not coming after you.

I jerked around to check that Tony wasn’t chasing me out on the street.

You got away.

You’re alone.

I couldn’t dupe myself into thinking everything would be all right. Nothing would be okay ever again.

I’d had a lesson in how others with privileges would always get ahead at the studio.

I’d experienced a harrowing near-rape incident in the supposed security of my home.

Out on the street, afraid to go to my room and lock myself in, I feel utterly spent and scared.

With nowhere else to go, I grabbed my phone and called Amy. She was a friend who’d want to help me out, but it wasn’t like she could be my hero. Her apartment was too small. Her sister—who’d just had a baby—was sleeping on her couch. There was no room for me to come over.

I didn’t have a long list of friends to rely on. With all my waking hours spent cleaning for my dad and working at the store, I only had the free time to dance, not socialize and have friends.

“Hello?” Amy answered.

“Hey, um.” I cleared my throat, hating how croaky my voice was from the fear and running I’d done. “Long story short, I, uh, need a place to stay tonight.”

“What?” She peppered me with questions about what was wrong.

I wanted to avoid admitting I’d almost gotten raped in my home.

And I didn’t wish to rehash any details for her at the moment now.

The less I allowed myself to think about what just happened—or didn’t happen—the better my odds were of not freaking out.

“It’s a long story,” I said, hedging an actual answer again, “but could you open the studio?”

It was the only other location where I could feel safe. I’d be safer there than at home.

“The dance studio?” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah. You don’t have room for me at your place. I don’t have enough money for a hotel room. And I can’t go back home.”

“Why? What happened?”

I shook my head as I walked, knowing she couldn’t see my gesture. “Please, Amy. Can you unlock it? Just for the night.” I didn’t know what I’d change before tomorrow night would come, but I could buy myself time for tonight. I had to figure something out. This couldn’t be my future, dammit.

“All right. You know where the spare key is for it.” She sighed. “I’ll text you the one-time guest security code when I get it. But you owe me answers later. You hear me?”

“Yeah, Sure.”

Yeah, right.

I didn’t feel like telling the only semi-friend I had that I’d almost been raped.

I was used to being the poor girl. The outcast. The loser no one wanted to be near because I was supposed to be inferior.

But to admit that I’d almost been raped?

That was more humiliating than how I’d struck out flirting with Oliver.

Amy was true to her word. She texted me the code to get into the dance studio.

The second I was in the place that I considered my second home, I sighed and scanned the empty space. I didn’t dwell on how I’d failed to hit on Oliver. I didn’t let myself relive the flashback of Tony trying to rape me, either.

Here, I was safe. I was free.

All night long, I compartmentalized my trauma of the night in the only way I knew how to pull through this. I danced.

And danced.

And danced some more.

Losing myself to the beat of the music and seeking the comfort of the steps and choreography that I knew by heart, I stayed at the studio all night.

The bench near the restrooms would serve as a cot. The locks and security system wouldn’t fail me.

But come tomorrow, I’d need to prepare myself for another day of disappointments, namely, my dad.

What’s new with that, though?

He always let me down, and I bet that he would try to neglect me for the rest of his life.

Because no man is good.

None of them.

I closed my eyes and snuggled into the warmth of my hoodie, taking that morose thought to heart as I slowly drifted to sleep on the tiny bench.