Bratva Beast: A Dark Romance

He was beaten bloody. His eyes were bruised and swollen shut and his lips were cracked. Blood was splattered on the floor around him, sprinkled on the concrete like rain.

I covered my mouth to keep myself from screaming.

Renzo casually put the phone away. He watched me carefully, like he was savoring my reaction.

I lowered my hands and bunched them into fists, squeezing.

“If you keep hurting him like that, he won’t last very long. Then what the fuck are you going to do, asshole?”

Renzo laughed. “Find someone else to torture and blackmail, I expect.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you need motivation. My Don wants to know how many men the Doyle family are sending, and it’s up to you to provide that information.”

“I can’t get that for you,” I said desperately, trying to keep Connor’s mangled face from my mind.

God, poor Connor. Beaten bloody his entire life.

And I was still so powerless to help him.

“You’ll have to try or else I’ll show up with more pictures. And body parts. Don’t forget the body parts.” Renzo laughed and slapped the bar. “Find out how many men are going to be at this drop.” He stood up and stretched his neck. “It was lovely seeing you again.”

He walked off and left without a word. I caught a look from Donal, a cocked head and a frown, but I just ignored him and turned away.

I was shaking, trembling. Connor, beaten and bruised. And that bastard Renzo still using me.

The bar suddenly felt small and suffocating. I could breathe, couldn’t get air. The place was closing in on me, like a closet stuffed with old clothes.

Leather on naked flesh.

I pushed out the side door and hurried along the back hallway. I stepped outside into the alley—

And Mack was there already.

“Renzo,” I whispered.

Mack grabbed me by the waist and pulled me against him. He held me tight as tears ripped from my chest and throat. I cried into his shirt, heedless of the mess I was making. I couldn’t keep it down, couldn’t suppress it anymore.

I’d failed Connor so many times and I was going to fail him again.

I hated myself for this. Hated that I let Renzo control me and hated that I was so powerless to make it all stop. Connor didn’t deserve any of this.

If anything, I should’ve been locked in that basement.

I should’ve been tied to that chair.

It should’ve been my room that my dad came into every night. My back, ripped open and bloody.

And it wasn’t, it never was, because I was a coward.

I slowly calmed down in Mack’s embrace. He made me feel protected at least, even if that protection was only an illusion, and only while he was around.

But he couldn’t be everywhere all the time.

“What did he want?” he asked, brushing my hair aside and wiping my eyes.

“Showed me pictures of Connor. Wants to know how many men will be at the shipment.”

He let out a breath. “Is your brother okay?”

“Beaten up, but I think he’s alive.”

“That’s good then. Bruises heal. Can’t come back when you’re dead.”

“What are we going to do? How am I supposed to keep going when I know they’re hurting him?” The anger and sorrow caught in my throat and I forced myself to swallow it down.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“My shift—”

“Fuck your shift. You can tell your boss you felt sick or something. Come on, let’s go back to my place.”

I blinked up at him, seeing his face through my tears. He stooped down and kissed my cheek softly.

“I’m afraid for him, Mack. I’m really afraid.”

“I promise I’ll get him back. If I have to tear this city into pieces, I’ll make it happen. Do you believe me?”

And for some strange reason, I did.

I saw him kill twice for me. I watched him beat a man to death with a baseball bat and shoot a giant in the skull. He tore his life into pieces for me, and now I had to trust him, even though I’d grown up not trusting anyone.

Mack was my chance. He was the only way.

I got up on my toes and kissed him with a depth that surprised me.

His tongue pressed into my mouth with a hunger, like an assault. I chewed his lip and let his hands move down my body.

I let him cup my ass and squeeze me tight against him.

I felt his cock stiffen against me and I let out a soft gasp.

His kiss was tender and terrible, like he wanted to rip me open and drink my insides—and there was some crazy, bleak part of me that wanted exactly that.

He could take my pain away. He could make me feel something better.

All I had to do was ask.

I pulled back, bit his lower lip hard, then stared into his eyes. “Take me home.”