Page 40 of Hunt Me (Dmitriyev Bratva #1)

B ristol

“Sit there. Be a good girl until I return.”

Be a good girl. That would happen when hell froze over.

The slight flutter in my stomach from his deep voice lingering in my ears was disgusting. I couldn’t believe I was still attracted to him after he’d locked me away like an animal.

He’d pointed to a cot in the corner of the basement and that’s when I’d known that at least half of what he’d told me had been a lie.

My mind and heart were aching as much as my body. Not just from the spanking, but from the emotions that refused to leave me alone. I’d never felt so scrambled in my brain. Hate and lust weren’t supposed to mix in a twisted foray of sin.

A sob threatened to derail me, but I refused to allow it, pressing my hand across my mouth. I hiccupped instead. At least the sound made me laugh.

He’d obviously kept another prisoner in this hellhole. Bad man, my ass. He was a repulsive killer and I planned on bringing him down myself.

If I managed to get out of here alive.

Cold and dark.

I’d never felt so alone or so utterly terrified in my life.

I’d felt something deep stir within me before, as if the connection I felt with Mikhail was more than it truly was. Of course, I’d been fooling myself. He was truly nothing more than a vicious, vindictive monster who couldn’t care less about anyone or anything.

That’s why I’d been tossed into a dark basement, the door locked behind me. The only light came from a tiny window, the early morning light only recently streaming through and driving away the imaginary monsters in my mind.

It didn’t matter how warm it was outside, I was freezing, chilled to the bone from fear and uncertainty. My short dress that I’d been stupid enough to wear didn’t help anything either. At least my eyes were accustomed to the darkness, and the ominous shadows that crept up every wall like boogeymen.

I wasn’t a fool and certainly didn’t believe in fairytales, but I’d bought into the words he’d said, the promise he’d made about not hurting me, lock, stock, and noose around my neck.

As I paced the cold, hard floor, my thoughts continued to drift from our conversation to the passion we’d shared not once but twice, and it made me sick.

My pussy even clenched from the hard fucking. I sucked in my breath, trying not to become emotional, but I was drained and exhausted. The monster had fucked me in the ass. And I’d loved it.

Don’t cry, Bristol. Remain strong.

Strong. As if that was an actual possibility.

I was suddenly overwhelmed, the full breadth of anxiety gripping every muscle and squeezing, much like the suffocating effect of his brutal touch, claws wrapping around my throat.

I would never forget his dark eyes and the way they had bored into mine as he’d studied me like some lab rat.

My God. The asshole had taken me like I already belonged to him, almost as if our sinful coupling had been selected in the stars. I bit back an involuntary cry, trying to keep my wits about me. I was exhausted and drained from the experience, the adrenaline rush from before all but nonexistent.

Think. You need to think.

He would return soon and when he did, I’d need to be ready for him. What could I do? We weren’t in a locked down community and there were no guards outside his house. That meant I stood a chance of being able to escape if I made it outside.

A weapon. I needed a weapon of some kind.

Invigorated, I ran my hand through my hair before turning my attention to the room he’d kept me in.

Now with a purpose in mind, I moved through the space, trying to find anything of use.

For a basement, the area was surprisingly clean.

There were no garden tools, no tools of any kind. Did this man never work on his house?

No, of course he didn’t. He had hired help to do everything for him. I knew his type. He certainly didn’t get his hands dirty.

Unless he killed someone.

A strangled laugh bubbled to the surface.

I was in the early stages of losing my mind. Still determined, I moved toward a long bench that had a few things on top. The light was barely enough for me to comprehend what I was seeing.

Paint cans.

A bucket with nothing inside.

Ugh. Rat poison. Really? The creepy-crawlies settled in, my arms and legs attacked by goosebumps.

My anger also surfaced, cold and brutal just like his. Every muscle ached from the tension, a slight pain behind my eyes forcing me to blink.

And the damn tears were right there just below the surface. I ran my hand across the table’s surface, ready to toss everything onto the floor out of frustration.

Until my hand hit something cold and hard.

Sucking in my breath, I wrapped my fingers around the object, pulling it closer. A metal bar. A crowbar. I almost squealed with delight. I pulled it closer, fingering the thick metal. There was weight to it. That meant I could do some damage.

Satisfied, I cradled the bar against my chest and spun around. When I almost fell, I realized my body was shutting down. I carefully walked toward the cot, hating the weakness my body was surrendering to.

There could be worse things.

My treacherous body could be surrendering to his carnal desires instead. That wasn’t going to happen.

Again.

I sat down, staring at the set of stairs. When would he return? What if he didn’t? Would he leave me down here to die? No one would find me.

No one knew I was here.

I took gasping breaths until I was close to hyperventilating. Oh, no. Leaning back against the wall, my hold on the crowbar became a death grip. I wasn’t going to die here. Maybe if I could rest just for a little while then I’d feel strong enough to get out of here. Maybe.

After taking several deep breaths, I felt calmer.

At least I wasn’t as lightheaded. I lifted and bent my legs, wrapping one arm around them, rocking as the cold settled in.

A single tear slipped past my lashes, sliding so slowly down my face my skin tickled.

As soon as it reached my lips, I licked the salty bead.

I was thirsty, my stomach gnawing with hunger, and this wasn’t the way I wanted to die.

I closed my eyes, unable to stop shaking, the reality of my new life sinking in. I was Mikhail’s prisoner. He’d never let me go. I’d seen the look in his eyes, the possessiveness as if the moment he’d touched me I belonged to him.

Never stop fighting. Don’t give in. Don’t you dare give in.

I was tired, so very tired. Maybe I could just rest for a few minutes. Just a few… Then I would…

“Don’t go far, baby. We’re going to have ice cream soon.”

“O-tay, Mommy.” Giggling, I raced away from the table. Lights. There were so many lights. They were butiful! I hopped and skipped, turning in a full circle, spinning and spinning. A sound. What was that? Ah, maybe something else.

I took off running, throwing my arms out.

A sharp sound and I jumped. What was that?

“Mommy?” I turned around. Where was she? I couldn’t see anyone.

Another noise. Now I was scared. Where was my mommy?

“Mommy!”

Voices.

Was that my daddy? I ran toward his voice.

“No. My baby girl. My baby girl!” My mommy’s voice.

“Get her out of here.” That wasn’t my daddy.

I turned. A man. A stranger. He was coming for me.

I wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers.

“Mommy?” I took off running, tears streaming down my eyes.

Suddenly I was flying in the air.

Thump.

Boom .

I jerked awake, panting and immediately struggling to remember. Where was I?

Footsteps.

Jerking awake, I blinked several times to try to understand what I was hearing, vivid images of the nightmare plastered in my mind.

I’d been lost. Where had I been? An amusement park.

That’s right. The nightmare had never gone this far.

I could still feel the stranger’s arms around me as he’d…

He’d picked me up. Then I’d been on the ground. An explosion.

Fire.

Flames all around me.

Images continued to pop into my mind. I could almost feel the intense heat. I’d screamed and screamed.

I bit back a cry, still shaking from the ugly visions. Nothing made any sense, including the ache in my arms and legs. The second I shifted, the ugliness of my situation fogged over what was left of my sanity. My mouth was dry, my head aching.

My legs were asleep, yet I managed to straighten them out, crowding against the back of the wall. Then I heard another sound. More footsteps.

The door upstairs was thrown open and I struggled to climb off the cot. My legs didn’t want to cooperate, the ache worse than before.

Where was the crowbar? No. No.

A slight whimper escaped as I found it near the edge of the cot. I quickly wrapped my fingers around it, taking careful steps into the shadows.

Mikhail had returned.

He flicked on a light.

His arrival sent shivers crisscrossing over every inch of my body.

I held my breath as he walked down the stairs. From the angle where I was standing, I had the advantage. As soon as he’d stepped off the last wooden tread, I reacted, racing toward him with the crowbar raised over my head.

His reactions were immediate. He spun around, managing to wrap one hand around the bar, keeping it several inches from his head while snapping his other hand around my throat and driving me against the wall.

I struggled with everything I had, using the last of my energy to try to kick him. When he blocked the action, I almost managed to stomp on his foot. He laughed and tightened his hold until his fingers were digging into my neck.

“That wasn’t very nice of you to do, Bristol. I already told you that I have no intention of hurting you.”

“If only you were telling me the truth.”

It would be so easy to get lost in his eyes, to drown in the aura of the man as I had no doubt scores of other women had. But I wasn’t like other women. I had a backbone. When my reaction was to laugh, his eyes turned cold for several seconds.

He jerked the crowbar from my hand, tossing it aside. The hard clang as it tumbled across the concrete was as jarring as his brutal hold. “Now, I need to punish you.”

“You’re out of your mind. You lock me in a basement and now you’re going to punish me?”

As he reached for his belt, my eyes were drawn to his horrible actions. He took his time, unfastening the buckle. A shiver slammed into my system. No. This wasn’t going to happen. I refused to allow it.

The moment he jerked the thick strap by a couple of inches, the fight or flight inside me kicked in. This time, instead of using my skills in kickboxing, which he’d likely suspect, I lunged for the stairs. I’d lock his ass in for a change.

I took them two at a time, certain the element of surprise would allow success.

Suddenly, I was ripped off the stair tread and into the air, his strong arm holding me like a rag doll.

“Let me go!” I screamed, fighting him with everything I had inside.

His growl was deep and throaty, and he stomped down each stair, the hard pressure booming in my ears. “That’s not going to happen. You will learn you’re required to obey me. One way or another.”

I pummeled my fists on every inch of body I could reach, kicking out violently, but he wasn’t budging.

Once he was downstairs, he ripped the cot away from the wall and pitched me over it. I scrambled up immediately, managing to kick him in the stomach.

He pushed me over again, holding me down. My head hung over the side with my hands on the floor. He was so damn strong that all the wiggling in the world wouldn’t budge him.

“Calm down, Bristol.”

“Fuck you, Mikhail.”

He snorted. “That can be arranged. You are going to be punished. It’s up to you to decide if I’m going to be lenient with you.”

“Ha. You’re a monster. Why would you show me any leniency?”

When he cursed in Russian, I pitched my body upward, almost managing to gain control.

In response, he ripped up my dress, exposing my naked ass. I was shocked how strong he was or maybe I was losing strength from exhaustion and whatever else that was keeping me so emotional.

“I’m going to spank you and you will comply. Period.”

“If I don’t?”

“Then the punishment will be much harsher.”