Page 1 of Scarlet Sins (Yegorov Bratva #2)

Chapter One

ERIN

My head pounds. Every time I try to move it, bright, stomach-churning pain slices through me. It’s like the bones of my skull are scraping against each other and the world moves sickeningly.

Blackness swamps me and I drift away.

The world rears into an ugly life. One word is resounding in my head.

Sasha.

It hurts. My head fucking hurts and I moan.

Sasha.

This time, that thought snaps me awake completely. Not just Sasha I have to worry about, but the life growing inside me.

My heart gallops at an ungodly speed and I open my eyes, only to hiss as pain explodes again, this time at the bright light that’s blinding.

Am I being interrogated? I suck in a deep breath. I need to calm all the way down. There’s Sasha and the baby I know I want.

Demyan .

There’s also Demyan.

The anger and pain that’s been rocking me over him dissipates like it never existed. These aren’t his actions. What had Ilya said? His words jumbled and—oh God. He was shot—and… and he wanted me to run from the men who took me.

This isn’t Demyan.

And that’s a comfort it really is.

Because Demyan’s going to come after me.

I know it.

Feeling like I’ve stolen some false courage, I take it anyway, and cling to it, then I open my eyes.

The lights are still bright, but I squint, letting myself get used to it. Finally, I can see enough.

This is a cell.

A real one.

No windows.

Just a door that’s going to be locked because no one’s going through this effort to leave me to walk away.

No furniture really, just… I move… the bed I’m on. Thin, hard, squeaking.

The light above me is the only light in here and it’s still bright, like I’m under a spotlight.

I try to stand because I know if I don’t try that door and by some miracle it’s open, I’ll never forgive myself.

Swinging my legs over to the floor, I go to stand, but the clink of metal and the pull of chains hold me there. I turn as I sit and note my hands aren’t just shackled, but the chain’s locked to the wall beside the thin bed.

I scream. As loud as I can. It’s stupid. If someone’s gone to this effort, then no one’s going to hear that scream except maybe whoever’s got me imprisoned.

Fine by me.

I scream again. And when no one comes, I try and haul the chains out of the wall. But the chains don’t come free. Whoever they were originally meant for, they were meant to hold someone bigger, stronger. With a sob, I let my hands fall to my lap, the wrist shackles moving.

Made for someone bigger?

Maybe I can get my hands free.

That thought is planted deep in my head, and I ignore the pounding and the ache that comes with the light, the pain in my face from where I think someone hit me.

It gives me a moment’s pause, all the violence.

What if I lost?—

But I don’t feel wet, like I’ve been bleeding down there, and my panties aren’t stiff with anything that dried. They feel normal and my stomach’s queasy, but there’s no pain. Then again, I’ve only been pregnant once and that resulted in Sasha, so I don’t know?—

“Stop.”

I breathe in and look down. No blood on my clothes, either.

My hands shake and adrenaline fires through me.

I try to work my hands out of the cuffs but cruelly they’re loose enough to move on me, but not loose enough to get off.

They catch and bite into my skin and flesh where the bones meet the wrist, and even if I could dislocate every bone, I don’t think they’ll come off.

Still…

I try.

“It won’t work,” a voice says at the door, one filled with gravel and dislike. I snap up my head.

The door is open, and a man steps in, someone pulling it silently shut behind him.

He’s in an expensive suit. I’ve seen enough quality suits on Demyan, Ilya, on men in my former life—the CEOs I’ve pitched for—to see this suit cost.

It’s fitted well, and he has an unlit cigar in a beringed hand. He stands out like an aching thumb in this hovel, this run-down… whatever the hell place I’m in.

He’s younger than I thought. Even though I’m not sure what was in my head to be surprised at that. I guess unformed images of old, fat, ogre-types had been running through it.

Not a man who’s probably five to ten years older than Demyan, lean and dark blond, a man who holds the cigar like a prop, but one he’s used to holding.

And he looks at me with utter disdain.

“Who are you?” I snarl.

He laughs. “Anyone tell you—you’re pretty when you’re distressed? Even those bruises on your face accentuate the delicateness of your skin.”

“Just let me go.”

The man comes up and smiles down at me. His cologne is rich, expensive and on the edge of overbearing. “There’s no point fighting.”

“Please.” I force myself to sit calmly, to think. “Please, these chains, I… I need the bathroom.”

His face shows no emotion as he studies me.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

Delight blooms. “I’m Niko. The Niko.”

Somehow, I stop myself from saying I don’t know who that is. A man like this wouldn’t like that.

But… Oh God. Sasha’s missing. Demyan’s marrying someone named Stefina. Ilya getting shot. All of it comes crashing down.

And in the dust of that is the thing that pulled me from unconsciousness.

Sasha.

If anything’s happened to him, if this man touched him, hurt him, I’ll kill him with my bare hands. Somehow, wrap the chains around his neck and choke him to death .

I fucking swear if I have to hunt him down, I will.

Tears burn in my eyes and swell my throat.

No, I can’t even think something has happened. I might be mad at Demyan, but he’ll never let something happen to our son, never. He’d rip the world apart the way I want to.

I drag in a breath and look up at this Niko. He might be a good-looking man, but his eyes are cruel, cold. And that diminishes anything attractive about him.

My heart aches as I battle the panic and I look at him, hoping he has some heart, a drop of compassion. “This was a mistake,” I say. “I’ve never done anything to you. I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. If you?—”

“What? Let you go? You believe your lover will rain down gifts on me? His thanks?” Niko laughs. “Demyan’s worse than me.” Then he gives me a facsimile of surprise. “Or are you going to mention your son? His son, I assume, since a fucker like that would never have taken in some other man’s spawn.”

My head swims and I think I’m going to throw up. Somehow, I control myself. “Please let me go back to my son. My son.”

I hate myself a little for that emphasis, but right now I’ll do anything?—

“And do you know where he is?” Niko asks, voice cold and deadly.

It’s like he punched me in the gut.

Something snaps and I launch myself at him. The chains pull taut.

“Where’s my son?” I scream. “You? Did you take him?”

And Niko laughs.

I throw myself against the chains again. “If you’ve hurt so much as one hair on that little boy, so help me God, I’ll?—”

“What? You’ll what? Hurt me? Kill me?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t think so. After all, you can’t even do anything about this. ”

“You monster?—”

He backhands me hard across the face and it kills my words. I see stars. And pain bursts inside as my head whips fast.

I shake my head and make myself look at him.

He smirks.

“You can’t do a fucking thing.”

The worst thing is, he’s right. I can’t protect my son. I don’t even know where he is and even if I did, how the hell can I protect him?

He’s missing and I’m here, chained like an animal.

Unable to protect Sasha, myself, the baby inside me.

What kind of mother am I?

I did this. By not listening to Ilya, I got captured, put this new life in me in danger, my son. I might have gotten Ilya killed. Now Demyan’s going to have to deal with that, and find my son and me?

I gulp down a cry.

The monster, Niko, runs a hand over my head, almost lovingly, and it makes me want to puke all over him and his thousand-dollar suit.

He then tucks his unlit cigar away. “If you know what’s good for you, and your sweet little boy, Sasha, you’ll keep quiet. As in, shut the fuck up and do what you’re told.”

I nod, heart full of fury and pain, and I look at him again, risking saying something. “What are you going to do with me?”

This time he rubs his hand over the sting in my cheek that burns the place where he hit me. “Good thing my rings didn’t catch. I don’t mind bruising—I find it fun—but I don’t like… permanent damage.”

“Please. Please, Niko?—”

“Relax, Erin, pretty baby doll. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then— ”

“My beef is with Demyan. You’re just a dumb pretty thing that got dazzled. But now you’re bait. At least, until I have no use for you and then…” He shrugs. “Who knows. Maybe you could warm my bed. Or one of my men’s.”

Panic flares bright.

“And Sasha?”

“I don’t want the spawn of that man.”

The bottom falls out of my world. I don’t know what that means. I don’t?—

“Stop panicking. It’s tiresome. Now someone will be down to take you to the bathroom. It’s in here, and you’ll be watched the entire time.”

Hate boils in me.

“And don’t even think of trying to run, because there are men outside the door and they’ve got orders to shoot anyone who isn’t one of them who tries to come out of here. You understand me?”

I just stare stony-faced at him.

“Do you understand, Erin?”

“Yes.” I push the word out.

He claps his hands. “Excellent. Get some rest. I’m sure you’re tired.”

He saunters away, through the door. It swings silently shut and I don’t even hear the scrape of a key.

I look around at the cold, bare room, the cell. Then I glance up. No cameras, there’s at least that.

I curl up, my chains clanking as a hot tear leaks out. But I squeeze my eyes tight, refusing to let more fall.

Oh God. What have I done? I try to regulate my breathing, try to control the panic that’s clawing at me from within.

But I’m scared, petrified. For Sasha, for the baby, and for me. And I silently pray Demyan will find me before it’s too late.