The Bratva's Bride (Wicked Doms 2)

Since he hasn’t answered, I push the issue again. “Killing me will be easier, you know.”

He huffs out a sound like a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I don’t like things that are easy. I never have.” He flashes me a chilling grin that makes the little hairs at the back of my neck stand on end. "I have much more creative ways of seeking retribution."

He acts as if murder is mere child's play.

I close my eyes and will my breathing to steady.

Maybe I've made a terrible mistake.Chapter 2I can feel her rapid pulse against the pale skin at her wrists when I reach for her. She doesn’t flinch under my touch but freezes, as if she’s debating her choices. Wondering if she can get away with fighting me? I’m prepared to immobilize her if necessary. Maybe after her first punishment, she’ll become a bit more pliable.

Jesus, I’ve got to be crazy for doing this. I could’ve ordered literally anyone in our brotherhood to take her and bring her in for retribution. For punishment. But I had to be the one.

I fully planned on paying a visit to our brothers here in the city, but now that I see her… I don’t want to. I don’t want her near anyone else but me, a possessive need to keep her away from other men consumes me.

It’s only been in recent months I’ve lived in the compound Dimitri established for us, and it’s the first time I wish I didn’t. The first time I wished I could have some privacy with what I want to do.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I came here to punish her. She became my property the minute I took her into my custody.

What possessed me to want her for myself?

I don’t want her in the same living quarters as my brothers in Kazak. Hell, I don’t even want the brothers I live with to look at her.

I wonder if I’m softening with the memory of my sister, as if the thought of Dominica…

No.

This girl is mine. She will pay for her sins. And when I have her alone I can do whatever I want with her. The very thought sends adrenaline coursing through me at the possibilities, my heart racing at the visceral image of her splayed out on my bed, naked and spread eagled, panting for me.

I clench my jaw and breathe in deeply.

This won’t be about her pleasure. She’s stolen so much; her life is forfeit. Even she must have expected that. I just don’t want the others to touch her. We deal with every transgression one at a time, on an individual basis. But the thought of her being under the punishing hands of anyone but me makes my stomach tighten.

She’ll be mine to punish. Only mine.

But even as I go through the options in my mind, I know I can’t keep her fully apart from them. I’ve arranged for the office beside my bedroom to be properly outfitted to deal with her.

I watch the girl from the driver’s seat as I navigate the vacant streets. She sits erect, her hands on her knees, taking in the details. They won’t matter, though. Even if she knows where I’m taking her. she won’t be able to escape.

She’s prettier than I anticipated, and even though I knew from Maksym’s description she’d be tiny, she still seems as fragile as a little bird. A little caged bird.

I like that she’s attractive, but it may change the course of my plans for her. I’d seen photographs taken from her childhood, and more recently during court cases when she was sentenced to spend time in the hospital. I expected the straight, pitch black hair, thick, elegant eyebrows arched over light brown eyes etched with thick lashes, the thin, pointed nose and delicate chin, and pale complexion. I’d studied her pictures, and expected her beauty. Hell, it’s why I didn’t want my men to touch her.

But I also expected her eyes to be more vacant. Distant. I expected some sort of physical manifestation of her mental illness, but I see none when I look at her.

My phone rings, and I curse. I gave explicit instructions not to call me unless it was an emergency, so this does not bode well.

“Hello?” I answer in Russian. I spoke English for her benefit. I’m not sure how much Russian she understands.

“Demyan, you have her.” It’s Maksym.

“Yeah. What’s the emergency?”

“Checking to see if all went as planned.” But no, there’s more. That’s not why he called me.

“I’ve got her,” I grit out. “Why the fuck did you call?”

He gets right to the point. “Filip got a call from Amaranov’s people.” I perk up. We’ve done inside deals with Amaranov’s men for six solid months, trying to get an in. The politician is the most influential man on our payroll, but he’s been wining and dining our rivals. We’d feared our connection was all but dead, and prepared to pursue other political avenues. “There’s an opportunity. His wife’s holding her gala in the Theater. Couples-only, thirty million ruble buy-in. Charity cause.”