After I woke up and realized he didn’t kill me, I had a surge of hope that I might survive this. It’s snuffed out the instant I hear his name.
Oh. My. God.
Viktor Vetrov is the head of the bratva. He made a name for himself two years ago when he took over control of the bratva and eradicated part of the Chechen mafia for setting foot in America. My grandfather was highly impressed and spoke about it for days.
The only reason the Cosa Nostra continues to rule New York is because the Priesthood respects old blood. The five ruling families of the Cosa Nostra have always held power over New York, and as long as they don’t deal in the Priesthood’s territories, an unspoken treaty is maintained.
Jesus, he’s part of the Priesthood.
I’ve overheard my grandfather and Uncle Ricco talking about the five men who make up the most feared criminal group in the world and the problems they presented for the family business in Chicago and Canada.
Their biggest worry was Viktor Vetrov and Luca Cotroni, the head of the Italian mafia. I’ve heard the two men are best friends and unbeatable.
Viktor is also known as the Hellhound. It’s said there’s nowhere you can hide because he’s the best tracker. He’s highly intelligent, ruthless, and kills without hesitation.
Shit. It’s a miracle I’m still alive.
My throat tightens from all the terror as I stare at the man whose second nature is to torture and kill.
He tilts his head slightly, making him look even more predatory as his eyes sharpen on my face, then he murmurs, “You’ve heard of me.”
Shaking uncontrollably, I nod.
The corner of his mouth lifts in a satisfied smirk. “Good. Then you know how stupid it would be to run.”
God. I don’t stand a chance against him.
A million questions bombard me, and I glance around the room to get a much-needed break from the brutal intensity shining from his eyes.
The embroidered white bed covers and pillows look as plush as they felt. Everything in the room is made of dark wood – the doorframes, the windowpanes, the vanity and chair, the walk-in closet, and even the floor. There’s another doorway that I presume leads to a bathroom.
“Rosalie,” Viktor says, so I’ll focus my attention back on him. When our eyes lock, he continues, “You’ll be safe here until you turn eighteen.”
Then he’ll make me his whore like he told my grandfather.
My grandfather.
Is he…?
Even though I know deep down what the horrible answer is, I ask, “My grandfather?”
“Dead.”
The word slashes through my entire being.
My breaths come fast, my breaking heart rattling in my chest.
They killed my family.
I’m all alone.
I suck in a painful breath that’s choked by a sob forcing its way out of me.
Viktor reaches a hand out to me, and without thinking, I slap it away. Everything in me spirals out of control until there’s only violent turmoil.
My body reacts on its own, and darting forward, I slam my fists against Viktor’s chest. I hear a scream filled with equal parts of horror and sorrow.
I keep hitting his chest until he grabs hold of my wrists, and my body is spun around. He forcefully crosses my arms over my chest and locks them in place with his much stronger ones. His foot swipes mine from under me, and I’m taken down to the floor. My butt hits the wood so hard, it makes me hiccup.
I let out a hopeless scream, and it morphs into uncontrollable sobs as grief drags me into a bottomless pit of despair.
Sitting between Viktor’s legs, his arms are wrapped around me, my back pressed to his solid chest.
“Shh…” he tries to soothe me, but the sound only sends icy shivers rushing over my feverish body.
The horrible events of the day flash through my mind. Uncle Ricco’s throat being sliced. My grandfather threatening and begging.
Viktor licking my tear and saying I’ll become his whore.
Viktor strangling me.
I wish I didn’t have to face a second of this life without my family.
God, I wish they killed me first.
But they didn’t, and now I have to face the nightmarish fact I’ve been captured by the head of the bratva, and he can do whatever he wants to me.
My body slumps in his hold until the back of my head rests against his shoulder. Through blurry vision, I stare at the window, thinking the first chance I get, I’ll jump.
“You will be safe here,” Viktor says again.
I let out a burst of air filled with all the bitterness of what my life’s become. My voice is scratchy as I mutter, “Says the m-man who k-killed my family.”
Viktor loosens his hold on me, then I’m tugged to my feet. He turns me to face him, and our eyes lock. Where his are filled with the violence ingrained in his bones, mine must show the trauma and grief I’ve suffered at his hands.
His right hand moves from my shoulder to my cheek, where he captures a teardrop with the pad of his thumb. To my horror, I watch as he licks the drop from his skin.
With the full force of his intense black eyes on me, he murmurs, “So sweet.”
Dear God.
My gasps are so fast it sounds like I ran a marathon, and every muscle in my body aches from how tight they are.
As Viktor keeps staring at me, the expression on his face grows darker.
When it feels like my heart might burst from my chest, I whimper, “Please let me go.”
To my surprise, he chuckles, a flicker of amusement easing the brutal tension in his overly attractive features. “Where would you go, Little Rose? You have nothing.”
“M-my family is…” Intense pain squeezes my heart. “…was wealthy.”
“The key word being was. Everything your grandfather had belongs to Nikolas Stathoulis.” He takes a prowling step closer making my hands fist at my sides. “Everything but you.”
He keeps moving closer until I’m forced to tilt my head back to keep eye contact with him. It only lasts a couple of seconds before I lower my gaze to his chest.
My entire life has been ripped from beneath my feet.
All the dreams I had of traveling the world will never come true.
Unbearable hopelessness darkens everything inside me, causing despair to soak deep into my bones.
“Except for you.” Viktor’s words have my eyes flying to his. “I did you a favor by taking you, Little Rose. Nikolas would’ve killed you.”
I swallow hard, forcing my chin to lift higher. “Don’t expect me to thank you.”
He chuckles again, the smirk doing nothing to make him look any less ruthless.
A shuffling noise sounds up from the hallway drawing Viktor’s attention away from me.
I glance at the open window as Viktor turns his back to me, and when another man appears in the doorway, I don’t hesitate and run.
My hands grip the windowsill, and I throw my body out of the room. Just as I let go, fingers close around my right wrist. I’m yanked back into the room with so much force, the windowsill scrapes against my stomach and legs.
I’m thrown onto the floor and my body skids from the motion. Before I can push myself up, Viktor grabs hold of my shoulders, and I’m forced onto my back.
Within a second, I find myself in a familiar position with Viktor’s body braced over mine and his fingers around my throat. Luckily there’s no gun pressed to my head this time.
Viktor’s breathing is steady, where I’m breathless from the failed attempt to escape. His eyes burn on mine as he leans closer.
Panic spins in my stomach and my hands grip his wrist when he’s way too close for comfort.
The words rumble from him like thunderclouds on a stormy night. “Do you want to die, Little Rose?”
Yes.
No.
I don’t want any of this.
I want my family and life back.
Viktor brings his left hand to my face and brushes a knuckle over my cheek. “Try something like that again, and I’ll cuff you to the fucking bed.”
Feeling lost and frustrated, I turn my head away and stare at the legs of the chair.
Viktor yanks me to my feet, then mutters, “Unpack and make yourself at home. Your stay here can be pleasant or hell. The choice is yours.”
Viktor looks at the other man. “That’s all for now, Sacha. Go get some rest for your flight back to Russia.”
When I don’t move, Viktor’s eyes snap to me. “I said unpack!”
I dart to the foot of the bed where the bags were left, and doing my best to suppress a sob, I open the luggage. I’m surprised to see my belongings and clothes.
I can feel Viktor’s eyes burning on me as the other man leaves the bedroom. When I rip a pair of sweatpants from the bag, I stop to quickly drag them up my legs. Finding an oversized shirt, I take off the one Viktor gave me and pull my own over my head.
I throw Viktor’s shirt onto the floor, and unable to handle being in his presence, I glance at the shut door. “Is that the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“May I use it?”
“Of course.”
I dart forward, and when I’ve hurried inside and get to close a door between Viktor and me, a sob shudders from me.
Pressing my forehead to the door, I try to gasp through the horror of my new reality.
In a matter of hours, I’ve gone from happy teenager to being the future whore of the head of the bratva.
Sinking down to the tiles cries jerk my body.
I cry for the loss of my grandfather and uncle.
I cry for the loss of the innocence that will be taken from me when I turn eighteen.
Which is next week.
I only have five days.
Wrapping an arm around my waist, it feels like I’m breaking into a million pieces.
