Page 54 of The Tsar’s Obsession (Bratva Sinners #1)

“Mia,” he almost whispered, knowing that something was awfully wrong. He knew. He always knew. He knew me better than anyone. “Talk to me, baby, what's wrong?!"

I listened to their conversation, drowning in regret.

I loved Kirill with all my heart. All of me belonged to him, and all I wanted was to be in his arms. Would I ever see his mesmerizing eyes again or feel his gentle touch?

Would I ever get a chance to tell him…that I made a mistake?

Tell him that I loved him beyond measure?

"Lastly, let me talk to Mia." Kirill’s calm and confident voice came through the phone speaker. Dmitry moved the phone closer to my lips, but I didn’t know how to start.

"Kirill." I finally managed to say his name again, all my fear on display.

"Baby. I miss you so much." Kirill started, and Dmitry rolled his eyes dramatically. "Do you remember what I said I would do if anyone touched you with even one finger?" he asked, as calm as lake water.

Yes.

Yes , I fucking remembered. He said he would cut that person to pieces.

And that’s what I fucking wanted to see.

Inside my mind, everything changed in a second.

The fear didn’t go anywhere, but it transformed into fire.

Into certainty. He was coming for me, and he wasn’t doubting for a second that I’d still be here when he arrived.

His voice, smooth and playful, gave me exactly what I wanted. I straightened up and matched Dmitry’s smile. “Yes, baby. I do."

"Has he?" Kirill inquired.

"Yes. He has." I copied his tone, assured and confident.

"Which part do you think I should cut first, svet moy ?" God, I loved this man. We belonged together; we were one.

My eyes drifted across Dmitry’s body. So many options.

"Cut off his dick first,” I spoke sweetly.

“He thinks so highly of it. Shove it down his throat.” Dmitry’s eyes slightly widened in amusement, but I spoke louder.

“And then I want you to take out his eyes, baby.

I don't appreciate how they look at me." My wide grin was maniacal, but I. Was. Alive.

"Done. I’ll see you soon, my love. Don't start without me." The call ended, Dmitry still holding the phone. Dead silence swallowed the musty basement, and even Jeremy paused his sniffles. The balance of power was all skewed now—in my favor.

For all his bravado, Dmitry looked...off. Like the play veered in an unknown direction. He stared at me, gears grinding in that stupid head. That’s why Kirill was the Tsar. Not him. Not anyone else. Only Kirill.

“Ilya?” Dmitry called out suddenly. A man approached, and I looked up to see my driver! My fucking driver! Ilya had been handpicked by Kirill. He was trusted, he was loyal, and he was a fucking backstabbing snake! “Yuri’s on his way,” Dmitry muttered. “Let the guys upstairs know.”

Ilya retreated, and Dmitry rose from his chair, his crotch ending up right in my face. He headed toward Jeremy, but at this point, it was up to me to set the tone.

“Fuck, I miss his dick!” The words burst out of me before I could stop them.

Dmitry froze mid-step and then turned sharply, as if to check that it was me speaking.

“You know, with Kirill, I never doubted he had a huge dick.

He never had to do stupid shit to compensate.

" My arrogance and confidence were only growing, like the pain from the handcuffs around my wrists.

I just had to stretch out the time. Kirill was coming for me, and I just needed to distract this sicko to interrupt his vile plans.

“But you know, one thing I never did with him was any drugs, ironic considering he’s The Tsar.

” I placed heavy emphasis on that title.

Dmitry’s dark eyes narrowed on me, his lips curling into a scowl. “I feel like–”

"Shut the fuck up.” His arm reared back before I could react.

The crack of his palm against my cheek was paralyzing.

Pain zinged through all of me, and I gasped for air, waiting for another dose.

"We’re not here to talk about your fucking feelings.

” He grabbed my chin, his fingers digging into my cheeks and forcing my head back to him.

Just stretch out the time. Just focus on one thing at a time.

"That's no way to treat your fuckable captive.” I pushed the words out of my squished lips, my whole face burning in the aftermath of his assault.

“If you give me some blow, I'm sure you’ll enjoy yourself more. And so will I.” I never looked away, staring him down like my life depended on it. In a way, it did.

Dmitry paused. Something sparked in his eyes—not doubt, not fear—but something completely unhinged. His laugh was hollow and grotesque, all of him shaking with glee. I’d awakened the real monster, and time was running the fuck out.

“You want some blow ?” He imitated me, squeezing my face harder.

“Yeah, I can hook that up for you, sweetheart. I can get you some. I’ll be left with all of it anyway; I can waste some on you.

” He barked out instructions in Russian, and heavy footsteps receded as another one of the huge men left our little party.

Fuck, what now? I had to keep talking. “You sent me that sick letter?” He slid back into his chair, letting his fingers trail down my throat.

“Did you like the approach, Mia?” The slimeball chuckled. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Didn’t work how you wanted, though, did it? You’re right, I’m a ride-or-die kind of whore. ” I threw his own words back at him. His nostrils flared, the anger showing. What an emotional little man.

“It worked out perfectly.” He denied easily and leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs in a show of dominance. “That was just to plant doubt in your mind about your knight in shining armor. It worked. But I got Polina to do it. She was so invested in your breakup.”

The words hit me like a freight train. What the fuck did that mean?

“Oh...” He latched onto my moment of hesitation.

“He didn’t tell you…did he?” he inquired curiously.

“You thought you were his only one, didn’t you?

No, the Tsar has a whole bevy of cock-thirsty whores after him.

” I listened with bated breath, forgetting to blink.

“She was in love with him,” he spelled it out for me. “For years. Was. She’s dead now.”

Absolutely unprepared for this news, I stilled as I thought back to the few interactions I’d had with her. It made sense. Her icy stares, her jealousy, and the condescending tone. Poor Polina, watching the man she loved court and chase another woman.

But there was no more time to process the dark sadness of Polina’s unfortunate fate. A large parcel landed on my lap, and Dmitry’s switchblade flashed in front of my eyes. In one swift motion, he sliced into it, releasing a cloud of white powder into the air.

Somehow, by the grace of God, I predicted his next move. “Enjoy your blow, bitch!” He plunged his hand inside and aimed the powder right into my face, but I whipped my head to the side right in time.

Cocaine hit my ear, my chest, and my hair, and I held my breath, forbidding myself from inhaling any of it. But before I could celebrate his little mishap, his loud shout glued me to the chair. “Enough games! Strip her!"

Fuck. No.

It was about to happen. Within seconds, my handcuffs were unlocked, and I was pulled to my feet, rough hands grabbing my hips and unbuttoning my jeans with violent actions.

"I'll do it myself! I'll do it myself!" I choked on my fear, lifting up my hands in submission. Trapped like a butterfly in a jar, there was no way out, no way for me to manipulate my way out of this.

"Oooh, I like that," Dmitry taunted. "Please, give us all a show. I'm sure the boys would want to see it too before the main event, hm?" Blood-chilling laughter emanated from every corner of the filthy space. Jeremy sniffled and whimpered, and everyone waited.

Better I undress myself than have them rip my clothes off.

My fingers trembling, I reached for the buttons of my shirt, knowing that it was all getting dangerously close to a point of no return. I was out of time and out of ideas.

But it was too slow for him. Dmitry’s hand slammed into my chest, grabbing a fistful of the material, and he pulled—hard, the buttons flying in all directions. “Take! It! Off!” he shouted, ripping the shirt off my shoulders.

My teeth chattered, but I moved quickly, kicking off my flats and pulling off my jeans, petrified that he would do it for me. My clothes strewn about on the floor, it was silent, and all eyes were on me—in my little black lingerie set. Vulnerable, and with no more delay tactics.

It was going to happen. Unless Kirill dropped down from the ceiling, it was going to fucking happen!

For the first time in my life, I turned to God for help.

I used to always be the one in control of my fate, the boss of my life.

But right now, only God could stop what was coming, and I wished I had that Orthodox cross still on my chest!

“Are you scared, Mia?” Dmitry hissed, stepping closer.

“No,” I breathed out, keeping my eyes down. The blade sparkled in front of my eyes, grazing the skin of my throat.

“Liar. Do a little twirl for me, baby. Like the good girl that you are.”

There was no way to refuse—not with a fucking knife at my throat.

Defeated, I shuffled my feet and turned, but as soon as my back was to Dmitry, he gasped loudly.

"Fuck me! He marked you! Is that his name tattooed on your ass?!” His palm pressed into my back, and he bent me over easily, like I was a mere cardboard cutout.

“Damn, Kirill. I didn't expect this!" Tears burned my eyes as he kept me bent over, helpless and humiliated.

"Pin her down; let's have some fun." Dmitry gave out instructions, and before I could even lift up my eyes, rough hands shoved me onto the cold, cement floor. A boot crushed my back, and a heavy body climbed onto me, settling right on the back of my thighs.

Everything happened at once. Jeremy thrashed against his restraints, his muffled screams constricted by the duct tape over his mouth. Footsteps shuffled around me, heavy and deliberate. Someone chuckled. Russian words cut through the air, and I yelped, the panic flooding all of me.

My voice echoed, but a brutal kick to my ribs cut me off. I gasped, desperate to fill my lungs with air, as if it would stop the pain. “Let’s fix this, shall we?” Dmitry’s voice broke through the commotion, and his hand landed right on my asscheek. “We can’t have his name show up on our video.”

The pain pierced me, the blade sinking in right over Kirill’s name. I was being ripped apart; I was sure of it. I screamed, all of me writhing despite being held down by multiple men. My throat was raw, and the sound echoed inside me, but the blade carved fast and deep, without mercy.

Hot blood poured down my hips and pooled on my lower back, but Dmitry’s butchering never ceased.

The torture was alien, the agony like nothing else I’d ever experienced. The cement floor underneath my cheek, I convulsed on the frozen ground, praying, screaming. Fading.

He cut out my flesh. He submitted me. He degraded me. But he couldn’t take my hope away.

Kirill.

Baby.

Come quick…