Arkady Krasnov.
I had every right to be scared. I’d just watched the mafia man break up a brawl between two gangs, killing at least four men in the process.
As he prowled from the alleyway, blue lights from police cars flashing across the scene, I couldn’t believe what was happening.
First, I’d been rescued from an absolutely terrifying attack only to be taken hostage by this man. He was my savior, a tall, attractive stranger coming to my rescue with no regard for himself.
But no regular passerby acquired those kinds of killer skills from sitting behind a desk.
To find out he was actually Kirill Krasnov’s brother shook me to my bones.
I gulped down another mouthful of fear, unable to even breathe properly with the pocket square digging into my lips.
I thought I was in trouble before. Nothing compared to being abducted by the Zolotov Bratva underboss.
I listened, wheezing in my throat, as my captor made goddamn small talk with a couple passing by us.
How could he be so calm and collected at a time like this? Though, deep down, I knew.
The entire Bratva was known for being coldhearted, coldblooded, brutal killers.
It was a fact Kirill Krasnov had assassinated at least five mafioso during the summer, including my brother.
My father went straight from mourning Bastiano to making plans for revenge but all he did in the end was rant for endless hours each day. With no other siblings, I just couldn’t live like that anymore. Bas’s slaying had been unexpected and unprecedented, and his death tore my heart all the way apart.
I missed my big brother with a pain that ate away at my soul.
I’d reached my boiling point. I’d decided to take matters into my own hands and reap my own vengeance in Bastiano’s name.
I hadn’t even made it to The Cat and the Sickle. I didn’t even have a viable plan if I’d gotten into the Russian stronghold. I’d come across a group of mangy looking men swigging from forty ounces who started catcalling at me and making obscene gestures.
I’d hurried my pace past the alleyway, but that had only drawn their repulsive attention even more. Before I knew what was happening, the disgusting pigs surrounded me.
They began touching me, flicking their hands at my hair, talking in rough lingo, leering.
My unlikely presence sparked a fight between two factions, and I became the ultimate prize as they went at each other with knives and guns.
Now this bastardo carried me along like I had no say in the matter just like those ignorant thugs!
I tried kicking Arkady again, but he just cinched me tighter against his front as he stalked purposefully down the road.
Injured or not, I was no match for his steely strength. His shoes clicked on the pavement, and the light musk of his aftershave invaded my nose, and I hated him all the more because I’d found him handsome in the first place.
Now I wanted to gouge his sea blue eyes from their sockets.
I had no idea where he was taking me. For all I knew, he had plans to kill me just like he’d murdered those hoodlums in the alley.
I swallowed down a whimper of hysteria when I heard the jangle of keys, and Arkady shifted me in his arms.
He swung a door open, hauled me through, slammed and locked it behind us.
His steps rang out again as he walked me down a corridor without flipping on any lights.
I smelled fresh paint and the sweetness of pine then I was unceremoniously deposited to my feet so fast I almost fell flat on my backside in the pitch-black darkness.
Suddenly, a light came on.
I blinked rapidly, hands out to ward off any new attack.
As I focused, my savior-turned-tormentor hiked one eyebrow at me with a smirk flitting across his lips. I snarled at him behind the gag.
Within two steps, he shoved me hard, and I went flying only to find my flailing descent halted by a soft landing. I ended up sprawled halfway across a sofa and quickly righted myself.
“Sit, dragotsennaya printsessa.” His smirk grew wider.
I understood the princess part well enough, and that alone made me snarl again. Whatever the other word meant, I had no idea but I was willing to bet it wasn’t nice. Not when he regarded me with such sinister intent.
My heart beat a mile a minute, and I kept my eyes glued to the daunting man before quickly taking stock of my situation. He’d brought me to what appeared to be a well-maintained house close to the alley where I’d been accosted.
Glancing to my right, I noted the hallway we’d come down. Now I sat in the middle of a large midnight blue sofa with two leather club chairs angled across from me. A brick fireplace and tall windows dominated the room almost as much as Arkady’s foreboding presence did.
His gaze left me only to inspect the purse he’d stolen from me.
When I began to get up, he pointed in my direction. “Don’t move, Lucia.”
The stark coldness in his voice reflected in the iced-over blue of his eyes.
Fear froze in my veins, and I clamped my hands between my thighs in hopes of hiding my trembling fingers.
What if he killed me now?
Who would find me then?
My father would bury two children in the space of three months.
The gag made it difficult to breathe but, after another threatening look from Arkady, I didn’t dare remove it, not even though air staggered in and out of my lungs.
He made quick work of the contents of my handbag, emptying everything onto a side table adorned only by a trio of tall ivory candles in black enamel holders. After poking through my cosmetics bag and even feeling along every inch of the lining for hidden items, he scooped the small satchel back into my purse.
He hummed when he found my keys and the small pepper spray canister attached. He placed my keychain aside then looked through my feminine hygiene products and birth control pills, which made my cheeks flame brightly.
I almost looked away but, when he glanced at me and saw my embarrassment, I glared even harder.
Maiale!
I cursed a muffled noise when he retrieved my phone. Then he paced to me, and his hand shot out as fast as a whip.
I winced, recoiling from a blow that never came.
His face took on an unreadable expression before he gave two sharp tugs to the gag stuffed between my lips. The pocket square removed, I took a deep stuttering breath, and he raised the phone screen to my face.
He had the device unlocked in an instant from my facial ID.
Lunging up from the deep cushions, I tried to throw myself at him—shove him off-balance, do anything to escape—but he merely sat me back down with one hand centered on my chest.
“Those are my personal belongings!” Red hot anger laced my voice.
“Not anymore.” His face hardened into harsh angles, those snapping blue eyes of his even deeper in contrast to his dark hair.
Every motion he made was precise while pure chilling menace rolled off him in frigid waves.
The side of my face throbbed, my knee hurt, my pants were ripped, and I was thirsty and tired and running on pure adrenaline alone.
I was helpless to do anything to protect myself, and that was the worst blow of all.
He spent no more than a few minutes on my phone and must’ve gleaned whatever information he wanted because he removed the SIM card and smashed it beneath his shoe.
My heart kicked up its wild beating, and I felt like I’d start hyperventilating.
Next, he expertly found the tracker hidden within the phone’s case and crushed it just like he had the card. He discovered a second tracker sewed into the lining of my handbag, and I swore softly beneath my breath.