Owned By The Bratva King by Jagger Cole

17

River

It’s either beenhours or days; I lost track of all time somewhere between the boat, the SUV on the shore, the second SUV they dragged me into, and then the long, bumpy ride to wherever here is.

I’m shaking. I’m tied to a chair in a huge, vaulted-ceiling bedroom, and I’m trembling from head to toe. I can’t tell if it’s that I’m cold, or if it’s a panic response to everything that’s just happened…

I close my eyes. Everything that’s just happened. Everything like Yuri being killed in front of me. Everything like my heart being ripped out of my chest and burned right in front of my eyes. Everything like my whole world exploding.

My head hangs. Even with the trembling, the tears start to flow hot down my cheeks. I sob a wrenching cry, before suddenly I hear footsteps. The door to the bedroom swings open, and Semyon Belsky walks in with a smile on his face, flanked by two guards.

Suddenly, my sadness turns to rage.

“You bastard!!” I scream, lurching out of the chair. But the binds hold me fast, digging into my skin. Just the same, I lunge again, screaming at him until my voice is ragged and choked. Semyon chuckles. But then his face turns to a fake-looking concern.

“Ahh, you are sad about what Yuri, yes?”

“You killed him!!” I scream. “You son of a bitch!! You fucking killed him!!”

He shrugs. Not smiling or gloating, just a shrug as if he’s just told me the store was out of milk.

“This is the way of our world, my pretty girl.”

A sour feeling curdles in my stomach. “Don’t call me that.”

“Ahh, but you are so beautiful, my little one,” he gloats as he starts to walk towards me. I tense, recoiling from him. But I’m tied fast. I can’t get away.

Semyon stops right in front of me and sighs happily. “And you are mine, yes?”

“Not a fucking chance.”

He smirks. “It would seem you are, though.”

“Tied to a chair doesn’t make me yours you sick fuck!” I scream. Emotion chokes my voice. Tears of rage, anguish, and heartbreak flow hotly down my cheeks.

Semyon frowns. “And yet it was so recently that you were the captive of another, and it seems you are quite broken up about being taken from him.”

The tears blur my eyes as I seethe, staring hot daggers at the piece of shit in front of me.

“So sad… so it would seem, him taking you and binding you did in fact make you his.” He smiles thinly. “So, now it is my turn to make you mine, my little one.”

I choke a sob, turning to look away.

Semyon grunts as he steps closer. His hand raises, and when his fingers stroke my cheek, I recoil sharply. I want to vomit at his touch, and the sob chokes from my throat.

“I apologize for the way you were stolen from me, my beauty.”

My eyes swivel to him, glowering in rage.

“It should have been me who had you to himself these last two weeks. And then, we could have avoided all of this…” he waves his hand. “Unpleasantness.”

Another sob chokes deep in my chest.

“I barely slept, my beauty. Knowing that motherfucker had you in his clutches. Wondering if he…” Semyon’s eyes narrow dangerously, looking crazy. “If he’d touched what was mine.”

It’s stupid, given that I’m bound to this murderous, psychotic bratva kingpin’s chair. But the hatred I feel for him for taking from me, and twisting a knife into my heart is more than I can hold back.

“Oh, he touched me,” I hiss. “He touched me all day and all night.”

When Semyon’s face darkens and his lips curl, I know I’ve touched a nerve.

“That’s all we did on that boat, you disgusting little troll,” I spit at him through my tears. “So, you’ve lost. I’m not yours, you fucking prick,” I hiss furiously a him. “I’ll never be yours. Because I’m already someone else’s. All of me,” I snarl.

Semyon looks like he’s about to snap. He’s shaking and red-faced. His eyes look like they’re going to pop out in sheer rage. I smile at him.

“You wanted me because of all the news about me, didn’t you?”

His lips purse.

“You pathetic little man,” I sneer. “You pathetic—”

The slap comes hard—much, much harder than anything I’ve ever felt before. I gasp, blinking in blinding pain. The whole chair almost falls over, until Semyon grabs me by the front of the robe I’m wearing and yanks me upright. He snarls as he leers into my face, making me seize up in fear as my face pales.

“Perhaps Yuri let you walk all over him, little whore,” he hisses. His breath reeks of vodka. Sweat trickles down his temples from his thinning hair. “But here, with me, you will learn respect. You will learn a girl’s place with her man. Here, with me, you will learn to thank me for my generosity, and speak when you are spoken to only,” he growls thickly. “Is that understood, you little Volkov bitch?”

Pure fear grips my heart like an icy claw. I want to spit at him, or hurl more insults at him. At this point, I almost want to scream abuses at him until he snaps and just ends this whole thing. Every part of my heart just hurts. Every part of me is crumbling in the anguish of losing him.

Yuri.

Through the pain of the slap, I close my eyes. It hurts like hell, but just same, I replay the memory of that last look on the boat. I’ve done this almost every minute since they took me. It doesn’t hurt any less, but at the same time, it keeps me going. It keeps me breathing.

“I love you.”

I try and shake the memory away before the replay of the gunshot hits. But I’m not successful. I start to shatter inside when suddenly Semyon’s meaty, sweaty hand grips my cheek and tilts my head back sharply. He leers down at me, smiling thinly.

“You were his little whore, da?”

I sneer right back.

“Yep.”

Semyon glowers, his face dark with anger.

“And did he fuck you?” He snarls quietly.

I swallow. “Every which way he could,” I hiss. “All day, all night, every single day.”

Semyon’s teeth bare. He whips his hand back as if to hit me again. I wince, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the pain. But then it doesn’t come. With my eyes still squeezed shut, I hear Semyon chuckling.

“No, he didn’t.”

I open my eyes. He’s smirking at me.

“You are not a good liar, my little beauty.”

“Yes, he did,” I say quietly.

Semyon shrugs. “I do not believe you. In any case, I will have my doctor examine you.”

I stare at him. “What?”

“My doctor,” he shrugs again. “He will examine you for your virginity.”

I want to throw up. I almost do, actually. My eyes narrow in horror and fury at him. “You can’t check!!”

“Of course you can,” he grunt. “And my doctor will assure me that my wife-to-be has not been despoiled by that Volkov piece of shit.”

My stomach heaves as my face pales. I want to scream at him. But I’m just empty. I’m broken; snapped in two. That is, until his words suddenly hit me again. My eyes harden in horror as I look up at him.

Semyon smiles. “Ahh, so you did hear me.”

Wife-to-be. Yeah, I heard that alright. I heard it and I want to scream until my breath fails me. I want to puke until there’s nothing but a husk of me left.

“You think I wanted to take you just for you to be a little plaything for me? Like Yuri?” He laughs coldly. “No, my little beauty. No…” he reaches out to me. I recoil as much as I can with the binds holding me. But it’s not enough. The backs of his fingers stroke my chin, making my insides knot and the bile rise in my throat.

“I am not a savage, like him,” he hisses. “I am going to make you my bride. My beautiful, beautiful bride.” He’s still stroking my face horribly as he leans down. “We will be forever each other’s, my love.”

I choke a sob, wrenching my face away from his hand. Semyon’s eyes narrow. But then he grins and shrugs again as he stands.

“You will learn to love me. Once I burn every single memory of that motherfucker and his motherfucker family to ashes. His business. His life. His friends…” he smiles thinly. “His famous daughter too, da?”

I sob—ugly, burning tears streaming down my face as my heart breaks for the hundredth time. Semyon sighs.

“You are emotional, I understand. Maybe it is that time of the month, no?”

I’m still sobbing and wishing I was dead when he turns and walks with his silent guards back to the door.

“When you are done with all of your woman emotions,” he grunts, pausing in the doorway to look back at me. “You should sleep. I want my bride looking beautiful on our wedding day tomorrow.”

The news is like a last slap to the face. I start to cry again as I sag in the chair.

“And then, we can forget all about that dead motherfucker who laid hands on what is mine, da?”

The door slams closed, and I start to cry harder than I’ve ever cried before.