Page 8 of Cruel Russian Pakhan (Safin Bratva #1)

My eyes fluttered open. I turned toward the nightstand clock and groaned, still sore from yesterday's training session. It was six-thirty, thirty minutes before Lev would waltz in and escort me to the gym.

Dragging myself to the bathroom, I couldn’t help but wonder if women went to the gym half to work out, and half to ogle the hot guys.

Because every time Lev stepped into my room in those loose shorts that stopped just above his knees, showing off his sculpted calves, and those sleeveless shirts that flaunted muscular arms and the tattoos snaking from his elbow into his shirt…

I wanted to rip off his shirt to see his entire artwork, and I didn’t just mean the rest of his hidden tattoos.

As I brushed my teeth, I thought more about Lev. He wasn’t the man I thought he was. After forcing me to marry him and my interactions with him previously, I had pinned him as someone mean and heartless. Yet, during our sessions, he was nothing like that. He was surprisingly…patient.

His willingness to correct firmly yet kindly had me a bit taken aback. Honestly, I expected a drill sergeant, someone who'd belittle me if I messed up. But I was relieved I got the former, not the latter.

Now that I’d seen that side of him, and I was ninety-nine point nine-nine percent sure he didn’t actually want to hurt me, I gave up on plotting to escape again.

This time, I’d try something different. I’d appeal to the good in him, the man who trained beside me at the gym, who talked to me over breakfast like I was human.

And when he started leaving my bedroom door unlocked, I knew it was a test to see if he could trust me not to run again.

I wanted to earn his trust. Even with my newfound freedom, I stayed in my room, reading books or watching television.

I hoped that once we had built trust that maybe, just maybe, he’d forgive my parents for whatever they’d done to him… and he'd let me go.

I had just finished pulling my gym top over my head when I heard the bedroom door close.

My heart skipped a beat because I knew Lev was on the other side of the bathroom door, waiting for me.

I gave myself one last glance in the mirror and frowned.

At least I was getting the exercise I needed to lose some of this unwanted weight.

I sighed. Maybe if I were slimmer, Lev would touch me more during our training sessions.

When I got the position wrong, he’d either demonstrate it himself or adjust me slightly, but his touch never lingered.

And God, did I want it to. Every time he touched me, it felt like he was marking a piece of me.

It wasn’t supposed to feel sensual, but it did, sending shockwaves through me every single time.

It made concentrating during training nearly impossible.

Worse, it was frustrating. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for him.

This was a marriage of convenience for him, not love.

He made the rules. So why did I even care how he touched me?

He was the enemy.

I needed to stay focused on the goal: build his trust, so he’d let me go.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Vera, is everything okay in there?"

At least he didn’t barge in like he did the bedroom. That was another thing, he kept calling me Vera. But what choice did I have? I answered anyway.

"I’m okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes," I called back.

He didn’t respond, but I heard his footsteps retreat. I quickly pulled my hair into a messy high bun and stepped out of the bathroom.

Today, Lev looked tense. His eyes were darker than usual. Maybe it was something work-related.

“Everything okay at the office?”

He gave a small smile. “Nothing I can't handle.”

“You can talk to me about it. I've been told I’m a good listener.”

His eyes lit up with amusement. “Trust me, as the Bratva leader of my faction, I’ve got everything covered.”

My breath hitched.

Did Lev just say Bratva leader? As in…the Russian mafia?

And here I thought he was just a damn loan shark.

That explained so much. The shootout. The guards. His controlling ways. The competence that oozed from him.

But even with this revelation, I wasn’t afraid of him. One, because he hadn't done anything for me to be afraid of, and two, I’d learned early on not to judge people by where they came from, or how they survived, since I’d done questionable things to survive, too.

“Like I said, tell me about it on the way to the gym.” I smiled and gently held his arm above the elbow.

As we walked, he didn't tell me anything about what was bothering him. Instead, he told me about his world and how he took over his faction after his parents died, the changes he made, especially listening more to his sisters’ feedback.

He also mentioned his brothers and some of the businesses they ran.

Then he admitted he’d trained hard physically over the years, not because it would keep him safe, but because he used to be as skinny as a lamppost, and that wasn’t a good look for a Bratva leader.

I chuckled at his comment, trying to picture a totally skinny Lev and just couldn't. Then I thought about how I wished someone had cared enough about me to train me when I was in the orphanage, then later in foster care.

I’d always felt at a disadvantage, never strong enough or fast enough. I kept a knife for protection, but it only helped when I was awake. There were nights when the bigger kids jumped me, and I couldn’t reach it in time.

Still, it was never too late to learn something new, and for that I was grateful.

I hadn’t liked learning much until my adoptive parents took me in and taught me the value of knowledge.

Now, every time I had a chance to learn something, anything, I seized it with both hands.

This, though? This was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

After every session, I was beyond exhausted. But it was totally worth it.

When we got to the gym, Lev pushed open the door and I stepped inside.

“See, I told you I was a good listener…”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

A chair sat to one side of the room, on it were ropes and cuffs.

I’d expected weapons we'd worked with before: knives, ninja stars, or even nunchucks. Or at the very least, for him to steer me toward the shooting range behind the far door, especially since I still needed practice with the bigger guns.

But this? Nothing prepared me for this.

Suddenly, I couldn’t get air into my lungs.

Memories from the orphanage flooded my mind.

Being dragged into the basement, being beaten with ropes and then cuffed to cold metal poles for hours in the dark, hungry and terrified, was the form of punishment they used.

I hadn’t had those nightmares in years, and now they came roaring back with a vengeance.

My chest rose and fell heavily as I felt the room tilt. I felt Lev's hand on my waist.

“Vera? What's wrong?” he asked softly.

I tried to speak, but my body wouldn’t listen.

He tried to steer me in the direction of the chair, but I remained stiff under his grasp. He gently guided me toward the ring, helping me inside. He eased me down until I sat on the mat, and he crouched next to me. He placed my feet flat on the mat.

“Head between your knees,” he instructed softly, his palm warm against my neck.

I obeyed, trembling.

His hands kneaded the back of my neck gently as he spoke. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “Just breathe with me. In…and out.”

I focused on his voice, the scent of his skin, the rhythm of his hands; anything but the burning ropes and cold poles in my head.

After a few minutes, I managed to steady my breathing. Lev sat quietly beside me, his hand resting on my back instead of at my neck. And now that the panic had passed, all I felt was sheer embarrassment.

“Vera, are you okay now?” he asked gently. “Do you want to talk about what just happened?”

I inhaled deeply, then slowly lifted my head to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with concern.

“I’m okay,” I whispered. “It’s silly, really.”

At least that’s what I kept telling myself. It happened years ago. I shouldn’t have reacted like that, not in front of him.

“It’s not silly, if it affected you like that. Tell me what made you react like that.”

I wanted to lower my head, to look away from his eyes that felt as though he was pulling at every deep dark secret that I ever held. But Lev held a finger under my chin, preventing me from doing so.

“It was a memory,” I said, hesitantly. “Of being beaten with ropes and cuffed in a basement…when I was a child.”

Lev's eyes darkened and his jaw twitched but he didn't utter a word.

“Like I said…it’s silly. I’d rather not get into it.”

He gave a slight nod, then stood and offered me his hand. I took it, and he helped me to my feet.

“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

This man had saved my life when he didn’t have to. He made me feel safe when I was wrapped in his arms. So yes, I trusted him…with my life.

His hands slid gently up and down my arms, and goosebumps chased after his touch.

“Today,” he said softly, “I’m going to teach you how to escape cuffs and ropes. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. I won’t leave.”

I nodded stiffly.

He took my hand, led me out of the ring, and toward the chair. After removing the ropes and cuffs, he motioned for me to sit. I took a deep breath, and I did.

“I’m going to start with the ropes. If you ever find yourself captured, the first rule is: don’t panic. Panic wastes your energy and clouds your judgment. If you want to get out alive, you have to stay focused on escaping.”

I nodded again as he slipped the cuffs into his pocket.

“If you’re conscious while they’re tying you up, tense your muscles as much as you can. That makes it harder for them to tie the ropes tightly. Then, once they leave and you relax, you'll have just enough room to wriggle free. Ready?”

“As ready as I'll ever be.”