Page 47 of His Darkest Obsession (Baryshev Bratva #1)

"The Volkovs should have become powerful allies" Valentina continues. "But because of you, he turned them into enemies."

No, she's not talking about killing Anatoly.

She's talking about killing me.

My legs tremble beneath me, knees threatening to buckle as ice floods my veins. The taste of copper fills my mouth. I've bitten my tongue without realizing it.

Valentina's eyes narrow as she studies my face. A small, calculating smile plays at the corner of her lips.

"You think I'm threatening your life?" She laughs. "I'm not so stupid a woman that I would threaten you directly... not yet anyway."

Her gaze travels slowly down my body, lingering in places that make me want to cross my arms over myself.

I feel exposed, stripped bare despite being fully clothed.

I'm suddenly aware of how I must look right now.

My hair is still messy from Anatoly's hands, my lips are swollen from his kisses, and I probably still even smell like him.

She knows.

Of course she knows.

"Does my son use protection when he fucks your cheap cunt?" she asks.

My heart plummets to my stomach. I want to lie, want to say yes, but the glimmer in her eyes tells me she already knows the answer.

She's just waiting to catch me in a lie so she can have an excuse to hurt me more.

I shake my head slowly, eyes downcast.

"And are you on birth control?" Her voice is deceptively soft now.

"I was..." I whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. "But not since I came here."

Cold fury radiates from Valentina's entire body. Her face hardens into something so monstrous that she hardly looks human.

"And just how often do you spread your legs for him, whore?" she hisses.

How often? Every single day. Every single night. Every single moment when we can steal even just a few minutes. We can't seem to keep our hands off each other. Sometimes, we'd even wake up at the same time in the middle of the night and won't go back to sleep until we've had our fill.

The terrifying smile on Valentina's lips widens at my silence.

"But if there's a bastard growing inside of you that might one day lay claim to this bratva, then I won't hesitate to do what's necessary."

As if to make her point, she places her other hand on my stomach and press hard enough for it to hurt.

The threat is unmistakable. The room spins violently around me as bile rises in my throat.

I can't hold the nausea back any more.

My stomach heaves violently and before I can stop myself, I vomit all over myself.

Valentina jumps back with a disgusted shriek before my vomit splashes her expensive shoes, and her face contorts in revulsion as I vomit again.

"You filthy little—"

I don't wait to hear the rest. This moment of chaos is my only chance. I push past her, past Vassily's hesitant hands away when he sees the vomit on my shirt, and bolt through the door.

My feet pound as I rush up the stairs. I don't dare looking back, and I don't dare stopping.

By the time I reach the bedroom that Anatoly first brought me into and slam the door behind me, my lungs are on fire. Once the door is secure and locked behind me, I slide down against it, gasping for air as panic crashes over me in waves.

But the queasiness doesn't subside. It rises again, stronger this time, and I scramble across the floor to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before my stomach empties itself again.

I rest my cheek against the cool porcelain, whimpering softly as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

How did everything fall apart so quickly?

Just this morning I was wrapped in Anatoly's arms, feeling safe.

Feeling loved.

What a joke. He never loved me. He never even cared about me. He was just playing me this entire time.

The tears start slow and quiet at first, and then build until I'm sobbing uncontrollably, hugging the toilet like it's my only friend in this nightmare.

With each shuddering breath I take, the cries grow louder and louder until I'm ugly crying on the bathroom floor while my heart thuds like a drum in my ears.

It thunders louder and louder. And it takes me a while before I realize that it's not my heartbeat that I'm hearing.0

It's someone's knocking.

"Go away," I try to call, but it comes out as a pathetic croak instead. I don't want to face Anatoly right now. I don't want to face anyone.

"Indigo?" Svetlana's voice, gentle but firm, comes through the door. "Are you alright?"

Only then do I pull myself up on shaky legs. I splash water on my face, trying to erase the evidence of my breakdown, before staggering to the door and opening it.

Svetlana's eyes widen at the sight of me. "What happened?"

"I'm alright," I lie, my voice hoarse. "Just... something I ate didn't agree with me."

I can tell she's not buying it. But thankfully, she doesn't call me out.

"I just got back from dropping off Amara Malcolmovna at school," she says, holding up a white paper bag. "I brought pastries on the way back. I thought you might want some."

The mere mention of food makes my stomach roll again. I swallow hard and force a weak smile.

"Thank you, Svetlana." I take the bag with trembling fingers but don't open it. "I think I might need something a little blander right now, though."

Svetlana tilts her head slightly. Those piercing eyes that look just like Anatoly's continue to look at me. I know she sees the redness on my cheek and the haunted stare in my eyes. There's no escaping that.

I brace myself for the barrage of questions that she might throw at me.

But that barrage never comes.

Instead, she nods gently. "I'll check the kitchen for some crackers, maybe some plain toast?" She pauses. "Tea with ginger might also help settle your stomach."

"That would be great," I whisper. "Thank you."

She nods once, decisively. "I'll be back shortly."

As soon as her footsteps fade down the hallway, I close the door and slide down against it until I'm sitting on the floor. My knees pulled tight against my chest, I rest my forehead against them and close my eyes.

The darkness behind my eyelids offers no comfort. All I can hear is Anatoly saying those words: "I care for no one but the bratva, and I shall love none other than the bratva."

A silent sob wracks through my body. I thought I was finally safe.

I thought he cared.

But I was just a means to an end.

Now Valentina and Vassily have drawn their line in the sand. And if Valentina's threats mean anything…

A familiar helplessness from two years ago reaches up from a dark depth, curls its hateful fingers around my heart, and drags me down, down, down beneath the surface until it becomes almost impossible for me to breathe.

Oh God.

I wrap my arms tighter around myself until my fingers dig into the flesh. Pain streaks down my arms as I claw desperately for just a hint of control.

But instead, all I find is despair in the heavy silence of a prison I was stupid enough to start calling home.