Page 15

"You leave again?" Yury said as I remained seated at the dining table.

I nodded once, "I arrive back after a day," I told him, taking another bite of fruit as I eyed the Coke Arina drank, "It's a little early no?"

Arina gave me a narrowed look, but before she could say anything, Yury suddenly said—

"Coca-cola is Arina's favorite drink."

I nodded, knowing that was one of the things she stole when I first met her.

"Still not good for you," I said as she took a sip of her fizzy soda.

"Neither is all the vodka you drink," Arina mumbled, eyeing the glass in front of me as Yury subtly nudged her to be quiet.

I lazily raised my brows, "At least my bad habits contribute something," I countered back as Nikolai handed me one of the white Xanax pills and Ivan motioned one of the servers over to pour me some water.

"We take care of any issues while you are gone," Nikolai assured me as I took my usual pill.

"I know," I said, knowing he and Ivan had handled everything for me the last time I was in Columbia just a couple of days ago.

Now I would be going back.

To get even yet again.

Only I'm making it more personal this time.

She thought she broke me, but she shouldn't have let me pick up the pieces she made of me.

Because what doesn't kill me, better fucking run.

"Arina is making very good progress with her fighting lessons," Yury told me as he continued eating his eggs.

I nodded once, "Good," I said, glancing over to Arina who poked at her pancakes.

At least she can defend herself now.

Nothing is more humiliating than when you can't.

"I see you all soon," I suddenly said, standing from my chair as soon as I noticed the time on my phone.

I need to be in Columbia by tonight.

"Have very safe travels Via," Yury said as Nikolai and Ivan stood up with me to escort me out to the car.

"I'm sure the people you kill there look forward to seeing you," Arina said sarcastically.

Which only made me grow amused, "They do," I said, tilting my head at her for a moment before I backed away from the table and walked off with my two right-hand men.

Who walked me outside to the running car that I slid into away from the harsh cold.

"You text me if you have issues," I reminded both Nikolai and Ivan through the window I had rolled down halfway.

Ivan nodded once along with Nikolai who nodded a few times in acknowledgment as I rolled my window back up—ready to head to the nearest tarmac.

Which was a little less than thirty minutes away.

The plane was already ready for take-off as I made my way on board—settling in one of the cushioned seats and mentally preparing for a long flight.

I also had numerous ideas flashing through my head—already planning my next move to get even with Sevan.

It was essentially all I thought about the entire flight over—planning exactly what I would do as soon as I stepped foot off the plane.

Just like last time, the weather was suffocatingly hot in Columbia—the humidity even worse at night.

I wore a ruffled black off the shoulder top and black shorts—wearing a pair of open-toed Saint Laurent heels.

My driver and some of my men awaited me off the plane.

One of them even held something I specifically asked for.

A black metal bat.

Which was wrapped in barbed wire with metal nails lining it.

Perfect.

I sat in the backseat of the SUV with the bat calmly sitting in my lap as I watched my surroundings fade past.

Until eventually we made it past the gates of security who I had to convince I was surprising Sevan.

They alerted her anyway so she knew someone was on the premises but still let me through upon receiving confirmation from her.

Little did she know what I planned to do.

Her security didn't let my men in the SUVs follow me in.

But I didn't need them for what I was about to do.

The large Spanish-themed mansion sat on the tallest hill that numerous trees surrounded.

It was made of white stone with a cobblestone rooftop.

The outside lights illuminated the doorways and arched windows—along with the perfectly trimmed bushes and trees that lined the house.

My light eyes traced every detail, walking up the white stone stairs toward the wooden front door.

I didn't have much time considering Sevan had already been alerted that I'm here—so as soon as I got to the front door, I began picking the lock immediately.

But after failing at picking it—I decided to lift my bat up and break the door knob in general.

I lazily raised my brows as the metal door knob clattered down beside my feet, determining I should've done that in the first place.

The house smelled purely of fresh citrus and vanilla—an oddly calming combination.

But fuck was it beyond overstimulating.

The Spanish design left me glancing to every corner of the room—so much was going on.

So many colors and decorations.

It was the exact opposite of how I lived.

I glanced away from the tiles under my feet—staring past the white walls to the wooden doors.

There were so many.

And numerous hallways past the foyer.

The garage was where I wanted to be first.

Which took a few tries to find.

The four different doors I opened prior all led to either a guest bedroom or a bathroom.

One of them was also a lounge.

But right past the living room and large kitchen was the door that led to the garage.

Everything inside the house was dim—and I left it that way considering how overstimulating it was even if all the lights weren't on.

But in the garage, I needed the lights on.

All of them actually.

Which gave me a good look at the garage as I walked down the staircase, eyeing the numerous cars Sevan owned.

It spanned from Mercedes, Porsches, Rolls Royce's, Ferrari's—the list goes fucking on.

But the more the merrier.

I smiled contentedly to myself as I lifted my bat—and swung it into the window of a brand-new Porsche, the crack of glass echoing in the empty garage.

Shards sprayed inward—glittering like sharp diamonds as they cascaded onto the leather seats and scattered across the floor at my feet.

But I wasn't finished.

I swung again, harder this time as I aimed for the rear windows.

The bat connected with a satisfying thud, shattering both the back windows in one hit.

Glass crunched beneath my boots as I circled around the front of the car, smashing the windshield and watching it spiderweb before collapsing into jagged pieces.

The side mirrors didn't stand a chance either—one clean swing sent them flying as they fell against the floor with loud clinks.

The tires were next.

I jammed the barbed-wire-wrapped bat into each one—immediately causing the air to hiss out like a wounded animal.

Each pop, each rip of the rubber tires, sent a thrill through me.

But even after all that destruction, I wasn't satisfied.

I moved on to the next car—which was parked in the neat row.

And once I had caused the same destruction to it, I moved on to the next.

Fourteen cars in total, each one lined up as if they were begging for the same treatment.

By the time I was done, every car had been reduced to a wreck—windows smashed, mirrors gone, tires deflated, and bodies dented beyond recognition.

They were all ruined, but the destruction still wasn't enough to put out the fire burning inside me.

I headed back into the house, starting in the kitchen.

My bat came down on the pristine porcelain countertops, sending cracks through the surface.

And then I opened the cabinets and began grabbing the expensive plates that I dropped—each broken one leaving me more and more satisfied.

But I needed more.

So I grabbed the glass cups and mugs from the cabinets and dropped those too—until I finally just pushed everything occupying the counters off.

Even the expensive espresso maker.

Which hit the floor with a metallic clang, dented and now useless.

The living room was next.

I raised the bat over my shoulder and brought it down hard on the sleek glass coffee table, smashing it into a thousand tiny fragments.

The side tables were next, broken to nothing but shattered glass and twisted metal.

My eyes landed on the brown leather couch, and I immediately dug the nails of my bat into the fabric—ripping the leather open with each pull.

I let out a content sigh as I stood in the middle of the destruction I had created, my chest heaving and my bat hanging loosely by my side.

Her house looked like a fucking warzone now, and yet...

I wasn't sure if I was finished.

I glanced around, contemplating what else there was left to break or ruin.

Maybe the dining room next?

Or maybe I could break all her windows and light fixtures.

I inaudibly gasped as soon as I felt hands roughly grab one of my wrists and tug it behind my back.

And once I turned my head and processed her sudden presence behind me, I happily dropped the bat.

At least until I felt the cold metal of handcuffs around my wrist.

"Nyet," I gritted, tugging at the handcuffs that held my arms in place behind my back.

But for once, Sevan didn't say anything.

She only grabbed the back of my neck and forced me to follow her down the foyer hallway I had previously taken.

"Mad malyshka?" I breathed out as I climbed the stairs, my head being forced down by her hold.

Sevan still didn't say a word, dragging me at an even quicker pace up the stairs as I stumbled and grunted.

Until finally we made it to the top—but I couldn't see much with my head down.

Even as she dragged me down a long hallway.

I just heard her open a door.

Before she pushed me inside the bedroom.

Where I stumbled over my feet, falling onto the bed before I could land face-first on the floor.

"I told you I get even," I breathed out roughly as my cheek remained pressed into the mattress.

Sevan still didn't say anything.

I furrowed my brows, feeling her roughly tug my heels off and—

Handcuff my ankles together.

"Sevan," I gritted, tugging even more at my restraints.

At least until she gripped me away from the bed by my hair—forcing me to stand with a grunt and an annoying whimper that burned in my throat.

"You're going to count twenty times," I heard Sevan finally say, her calm voice lowered almost dangerously, "Counting won't start until you verbally say each number," she added, and I could suddenly hear something jingling.

Her belt?

I think she's taking off her belt.

"I made you very mad, da?" I said, my lips twitching up slightly as I processed what I assumed she was about to do.

She's going to spank me.

But jokes on her, spanking doesn't affect me.

I've been through much fucking worse torture during my training.

"Twenty-five," Sevan added to the previous number, but I only rolled my eyes to myself as she sat at the edge of the bed.

And guided me across her lap.

"This doesn't affect me," I said in boredom, waiting for the first spanking.

Sevan hummed, "Thirty," she murmured calmly.

I grunted, jerking forward as soon as the belt came into contact with my ass, leaving a burning stinging behind.

But I didn't count.

I refused to count.

So she lifted the belt up again and brought it down even harder, forcing me to jerk forward yet again as she held me in place.

Blyat.

A grunt burned in my throat, squeezing every muscle in my entire body when the belt came down yet again and harder than ever, burning my covered ass.

Each strike was calculated and deliberate.

She wanted me to break.

But I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.

We eventually got ten in and I still had yet to count for her.

And I'm not going to.

"I have all the time in the world Zinovia," Sevan said, bringing the belt down yet again—which forced me to jerk forward with more of a whimper than a grunt.

Mostly because my ass is getting sore.

But I refuse to count.

If I count she wins.

And I'll feel really fucking degraded.

Thirty...

Forty.

I lost count of how many times that belt came down.

But Sevan was patient.

She fucking meant it when she said she had the time to sit here and do this.

Now my ass is burning and my face feels hot from holding my breath with each spanking.

My eyes are even watering against my own fucking wishes.

"Odin," I gritted the word one in Russian, balling my hands up into fists as I finally gave in to her demands.

She brought the belt down again.

"Dva," I mumbled the word two in Russian, squeezing my eyes shut as she brought the belt down again.

But I didn't even have the energy to jerk forward or move away from her.

I just remained limp across her legs.

"Tri," I breathed out the word three in Russian, squeezing my legs together as she brought the belt down on my ass again.

And again.

And fucking again.

Until I made it to thirty for her.

And by the time that happened, I was nearly panting for air, physically limp across her lap.

I could barely stand as she lifted me up from her lap, forcing me to embarrassingly stumble a few times with a grunt.

Sevan's dark eyes analyzed my face—that she suddenly reached her hand up to caress, gently running her thumb under my dampened eyes.

I clenched my jaw as I remained still for her, staring up into her dark eyes with nothing but hatred.

"Why can't you just behave baby?" Sevan murmured, gently grabbing my chin to tilt my head back and align our eyes better.

I remained dead fucking silent, sparing a response due to my irritation.

And also how fucking tired I felt.

Especially with my jet lag.

Sevan let out a long sigh, pulling her hand away from my face as she backed us over to the bed.

That she laid me across?

"You'll be spending the night like this," Sevan said as I tried to slide back off the mattress.

But with my hands and ankles handcuffed I couldn't do fucking much of anything.

"Hopefully this time you'll learn your lesson," Sevan said, and I could hear her footsteps echo away from me.

"Sevan," I gritted, tugging against the handcuffs, "You can't fucking leave me like this," I called out, my voice echoing throughout the room.

But the lights were already turned off and the door was shut.

Which left me in the still fucking silence among the crickets.

So I screamed.

And I screamed again.

And again.

And fucking again until she would finally come unlock me.

But she never did.

Eventually, I fell asleep with not just a burning throat, but a burning ass too.

Fuck. This.