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Tears Of Betrayal: Chapter 6



Feeling like shit, I leave Ariana’s food on the dressing table and pull the door shut behind me.

When I went to the mainland to get supplies, it didn’t even cross my mind that she would need the restroom.

I’ve felt glimpses of pity in the past. For Winter, Damien’s wife, when she lost her family. For Hailey, Alexei’s younger brother’s girlfriend, after the Polish beat her to within an inch of her life.

But I’ve never felt what I’m experiencing now.

I’m not sure what it is, but it’s not just pity.

Slumping down on the couch, I stare at the state-of-the-art entertainment system across from me.

What am I going to do with Ariana? At the rate things are going, we’re going to drive each other insane long before Alexei gets word from Sergei.

I don’t get along with people, because most of them annoy the fuck out of me.

I’m the worst possible person to babysit Ariana, and it doesn’t help that I’m attracted to her.

Fuck my life.

I let out a sigh, and lifting a hand to my face, I rub tiredly over my eyes.

I’ve changed the mattress and bedding in her room, and she has food, so I don’t have to worry about her tonight. But what the hell do we do tomorrow?

She has questions I can’t answer.

This isn’t going to get better. If Sergei wants us to protect his daughter, it means war with Yuri. If Sergei wants her dead, it means war with the Bratva because Alexei won’t kill her.

I hear Ariana’s cautious footsteps as she comes down the stairs, and I rise to my feet. She glares in my direction and carries the untouched plate of food to the kitchen. “Asshole,” she mumbles under her breath.

It’s not in my nature to apologize, and I’m not about to start now, but still, the words burn on the tip of my tongue.

I watch as she moves to the sink and opens the faucet. When she begins to wash the dishes, I say, “There’s a dishwasher.”

“Don’t talk to me,” she snaps.

That’s my queue to leave.

I go to the security room and enter the code for the door. Taking a seat behind the monitors, I can see every room in the house from the cameras we installed.

I glance at the screen showing the underground chatter, but after a couple of seconds, I turn up the sound for the camera in the kitchen.

‘…can go to hell,’ I hear Ariana mumble angrily. She shakes her head, letting out an offended chuckle but then it turns to a sob. I watch as she takes deep breaths, and then the dishes suffer as she grabs one after the other. ‘Freaking, asshole.’

When she dries her hands, red swelling around her wrists catches my eye.


Getting up, I leave the security room and go get the first aid kit. When I come down the stairs, I hear Ariana grumble, “How the hell does this TV work?”

When I sit down next to her, she freezes, but then the scowl returns to her face. “Leave me alone.”

I take the remote from her hand and switch on the TV. “What do you want to watch?”


I go into Netflix then hand her the remote. Taking hold of her free arm, my eyes sweep over the broken skin.

Ariana yanks away from me. “Don’t touch me.”

“Watch TV and let me do my job,” I mutter as I grab hold of her arm again. I set her hand down on my thigh, and opening the first aid kit, I remove antiseptic wipes and clean her wrist before putting balm on.

I can’t help but notice how delicate her bone structure is, and my hand is easily twice the size of hers.

I need to be gentler with her.

When Ariana sits frozen, my eyes lift to her face, and I’m met with a wide-eyed bewildered expression.

“I thought you didn’t care if I’m comfortable or not,” she throws my words from earlier back at me. “Feeling guilty must be a new experience for someone like you.”

I shove her hand off my thigh and mutter, “Other wrist.”

She places her left hand on my thigh, then says, “I hope the guilt eats away at your conscience.” She takes a breath then adds, “Which I doubt you have.”

As I dab the balm onto her wrist, I mutter, “You did this to yourself. I warned you what would happen if you attack me.”

She yanks her arm out of my hold and then shoves at my shoulder as she darts to her feet. “You’re such a jackass! None of this is my fault. You kidnapped me. You tied me to the bed. You just left me there. It’s all on you, jerk.”

Closing the first aid kit, I get up and walk away. “Don’t expect an apology from me. It will never happen.” I stop by the stairs and glare back at her. “Just do as I say, and you’ll get through this in one piece.”

“And if I don’t do as you say?” she asks, lifting her chin in defiance.

“Then you’ll end up dead.”

I watch as my words hit her, the fear pouring back into her eyes as she stares at me, and I instantly regret what I just said.

There’s no doubt on her face that she thinks I’ll actually kill her. Not for the first time, I get the feeling Ariana knows who I am, and it has me asking, “Did your father tell you about me?”

She shakes her head, pressing her lips tightly together.

“But you know who I am. How?”

Ariana shakes her head again, and when I give her a look of warning, her shoulders slump. “I overheard some of my dad’s calls. He mentioned you and a man named Alexei.”

“What did he say?” I demand.

“Just that you’re the best… assassins.”

My eyes lock with Ariana’s. “I’m not an assassin.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m a custodian to an assassin.”

“Custodian?” she asks, confusion flashing over her features.

“A protector.”

A couple of seconds pass, and then she lets out an incredulous chuckle. “Right, then I’m the head of the Bratva.”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Then we’re all fucked.”

Ariana scowls at me again. “Ugh.” She drops down on the couch and mutters, “I don’t know why I even bother talking to you.”





What a jerk.

As I scroll through Netflix, anger simmers in my chest like a volcano ready to explode.

Needing a good distraction, I decide to watch V Wars again because Ian Somerhalder always makes me forget about everything.

I press play on the first episode and curl up on the couch, but I can’t get into the show.

I’ve been freaking kidnapped.

The realization of the predicament I find myself in keeps hitting me over the head. I keep alternating between feeling intense fear and talking myself off the ledge.

Maybe Demitri is telling the truth, and he won’t kill me.

Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems.

I wrap my arms tightly around my waist, glancing around the room.

I need to find a way to escape. Maybe if I act calm, Demitri will let down his guard.

I let out a sigh because he knew I was going to attack him with the fork before I even made a move.

What the hell am I going to do?

Things only worsen when Demitri comes back into the living room and sits down on the other couch.

My gaze keeps flicking between the TV screen and Demitri until it finally stops on the man that’s the sole reason for my unhappiness.

It’s weird seeing him do something as mundane as watching TV, and the longer I stare, the more aware I become of how attractive he is.

Over the past day, I forgot all about his appearance. For a moment, it’s hard to believe someone who looks like him is capable of killing people… has killed before.

He has a mixture of model-worthy looks and something rugged, disturbing the flawlessness just enough to make my ovaries swoon.

But then there’s his crappy personality, and it makes a scowl form on my face.

Still a jerk, even if he’s a hot one.

Demitri’s eyes snap to mine, and I quickly look back to the TV.

When even Ian is unable to hold my attention, I let out a miserable sigh and slant my gaze back to Demitri.

“How long will we stay here?” I ask.

Demitri turns his attention to me. “Just a week.”

Hoping he’ll answer more of my questions, I ask, “Where’s Alexei?”

“He’s trying to find the assassin that’s coming after you.”

My eyebrows arch up. “What will he do when he finds the person?”

There’s no emotion on Demitri’s face as he replies, “Kill him.”

Confusion slithers through me. “Why would he do that?”

“The Koslovs don’t condone the killing of innocent women.” His eyes drift over my face. “Even if they’re annoying.”

Ugh. Jerk.

A couple of seconds later, my teeth tug at my bottom lip before I whisper, “And the Vetrovs?”

Demitri stares at me for a moment before saying, “Only if the woman is a threat to Alexei.”

Which I’m not.


“You can relax, Ariana. Until we hear from your father, I’m just here to make sure you stay alive.”

Yeah, right.

“What if you don’t hear from my father?”

Again he stares at me. “We’ll deal with that problem when it happens.”

I doubt Demitri will just let me go back to my life. My teeth tug at my bottom lip again as the apprehension trickles through my insides.

I lower my eyes to my wrists as dreadful thoughts begin to mull in my head.

Will I ever be able to return to my life, or is it gone forever?

It’s only been a day, and I’ve been choked, tossed around like a ragdoll, drugged, tied up, and left to relieve myself on a bed. What does that mean for tomorrow?

Right now, I only have a couple of bruises and have been humiliated.

But tomorrow… a bruise might become a broken bone.

Lost in my misery, I brush a finger over my left wrist.

Suddenly Demitri says, “We’re stuck here for a while. Just follow my rules, and you’ll be fine.”

Lifting my eyes, I meet his unwavering gaze. “What are the rules?”

“Don’t fight me.”

My eyes narrow on him. “Like hell. There’s no way I’m just going to let you throw me around and tie me up.”

“None of that will happen if you do what I say.”

I let out a disgruntled huff, and my anger from earlier returns, dimming the fear. “Do you get off on hurting and humiliating me?”

 Demitri rises to his feet, and when he walks to where I’m sitting, every muscle in my body tenses. I move to get up, but before I can make a run for it, he’s right in front of me. He tilts his head, his eyes hard on me. “Yes, Ariana. It makes me hard as fucking steel to tie you to a bed while you screech until it feels like my ears are going to bleed.”

The image of Demitri being turned on while holding me down flashes through my mind, and it sends an unexpected wave of desire rushing through my body.

Oh, hell no. Don’t even go there.

Somehow I manage to stand my ground in front of him, giving him a glare until he walks away. My eyes burn into his back as he heads toward the stairs leading to what I assume is the basement. It’s the second time I see him go down there, and in the spur of the moment, I follow after him.

Peeking down the short stairway, I watch as Demitri keys in a code and, shoving a heavy metal door open, he disappears inside the room.

What’s in there?

Probably the keys for the boat and a phone. Everything I need to escape.

I need to find out what the code for that door is.


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