Page 86 of Born into Blood

I take in a shaky breath, trying to get control of myself, but it’s not easy and when another sob escapes, he drops his hand with an angry grunt and takes a step back. I have one brief moment of relief but it’s gone as soon as I see the knife he pulls from a sheath at his waist. If he’s trying to get me to stop crying, he’s going about it the wrong way because the sight of that sharp, serrated blade is doing nothing to put me at ease.

“Please don’t,” I whimper, but he ignores me and puts the blade to my stomach. I can easily feel the sharp tip of it through my thin shirt, and when I shudder, he lets out a soft laugh. Gripping the fabric in one hand, he uses the other to run the blade up my shirt, tearing through it without any effort on his part, confirming my worse fears about how damn sharp he keeps his knife.

When my shirt is split down the middle, he continues to ignore my pleas for him to stop as he cuts away the sleeves. I’m too scared to worry about my damn scars, but when I hear him let out a disgusted sound and push me away so I’m swinging on my hook, I’m too ashamed and embarrassed to even lift my head.

“Fucking disgusting,” he growls at me, and I hate that I’m letting this sick fucker make me feel bad. “I’m disappointed. I expected something better from Osip’s daughter.”

That has me lifting my head. “What?”

He raises a condescending brow at me. “I thought you’d be smarter, too. If your dad were alive, he’d be embarrassed to call you his daughter.”

“Like I care what that sick fuck would think.” I spit the words out, too angry to be cautious. “Is that why you took me? Because I’m his daughter? How the hell did you even know, and who are you anyway?”

The man grins, running his eyes over my bra before he slides his fingers down my stomach and to the waistband of my jeans.

“You’re heavier than I like, but you’ve got great tits.”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I scream at him, feeling nauseous at having his hands on me. Luka is the only man I want touching me, and it feels so wrong to have this bastard groping me.

He gives another laugh and uses his thumb to pop the button on my jeans before slowly lowering my zipper. “I see you did get your father’s temper.”

Jerking my jeans down my body, he pulls them from me, taking my shoes as well until I’m in nothing but my bra and panties.

“What are you going to do to me?” I look around the room, desperate for some way out of this hell. “What are you going to do to my mom?”

“We don’t need her,” he says, like her life means absolutely nothing to him and he doesn’t give the slightest fuck whether she lives or dies. “She’ll be taken care of soon enough.”

“Please don’t hurt her,” I beg in a shaky voice that makes it clear I’m scared to death.

“If I were you, I’d be a little more worried about my own ass.” To emphasize his point, he steps behind me and smacks one of my cheeks hard enough to make my eyes water and a scream to escape from my lips before I can bite down and stop it.

“Who are you?” I ask again. “And what do you want with me?”

He finishes his circle around me, not saying a word until he’s facing me again. “I’m Radek, and I work for the Turgenev Bratva, the Bratva who stepped in and took over when your uncle and dad were killed. Did you know your dad helped run the biggest sex trafficking ring in the world?”

He can tell by the horrified look on my face that I have no idea what he’s talking about. Stepping closer, he hooks a finger under my chin and roughly forces my face up to meet his so I’m at an even more awkward angle, pain radiating down my neck and spine.

“They were taken out, so we stepped in and took over. Your family made a fucking fortune off kidnapping and selling women.” He runs his eyes over my ruined arms while I try not to lose my supper all over his nice black boots. “It’s a shame you fucked yourself up like this, but even with your ugly scars, I’m guessing we’ll still get one hell of a bid for Osip’s only child.”

“Bid?” I try not to show how terrified I am, but he sees it. My voice is nothing but a scared whisper, and my entire body is shaking. I don’t know how Luka deals with this shit. I’m clearly not cut out for it.

Radek gives a wicked laugh and drops my chin. “We’re going to sell you to the highest bidder, sweetheart. If your dad were alive, he’d approve. A son would have been of use to him. He could’ve taught him to run the business. But a girl? You would have been married off to secure a business connection, or you would have been sold off to make money.”

“Why are you doing this?” I look into his dark eyes, trying to find some brief glimpse of humanity, some hint that there’s still a human in there somewhere, but when he smiles, I know there’s nothing in this man but hate and a desire to hurt.

“Because it’s fun,” he says, running his eyes over me again, “and it’s made me a very rich man.”

With the corner of his mouth still lifted in a smirk, he starts to circle me again, dragging the tip of his blade along my stomach and side as he goes. He’s not pressing hard enough to cut me, but we both know how sharp his knife is, and it’s not going to take much to break skin.

“I’m under strict orders to not touch you if you’re a virgin, but,” he says, tapping the tip of his knife against my hip, “you’re not, are you? There are small bruises along your hips, just like a man would leave if he were gripping you while fucking you hard.”

My heart races even faster at his words, because I’m barely handling things so far, but if he starts touching me, I’m going to break completely. He will destroy me. I’d much rather he take that knife and start slicing. That’s at least a pain I’m familiar with.

When he drags the blade along the top of my panties, tracing a line from one hip to the next, I let out a shaky, “Please don’t.” I haven’t brought up Luka because I don’t want to drag him into this and put his life at risk, but when Radek slips the blade beneath the lace at my hip and splits it with a terrifying ease, I say, “They’re going to kill you for this.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, his tone making it clear he doesn’t give a fuck and hardly thinks whatever I have to say will be a real threat. “Who’s going to kill me, sweetheart?”

“My boyfriend and his family,” I tell him. “Did you take the stairwell when you and your friends came to kidnap us?”

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