Page 67 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
Chapter 39 - Nat
I still didn’t know if it was Vissarion’s ultimate goal to kill me. Once he had me cuffed to the bed, he choked me until darkness clouded my vision, snapping pictures and laughing while I gurgled for air. Once he had what he wanted, he left me alone in the room, gasping and trembling, unable to reach my throat, which had been squeezed raw.
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since then. The only light came from under the crack in the door, and with no windows, I had no idea if it was day or night. All I could do was lay there in an uncomfortable daze, so far past fear that I was nearly catatonic.
What did Vissarion say when he stormed out after choking me?
“Things are going to get much more painful. For both you and Kolya.”
As much as I tried to block it out, his cruel voice echoed in my ears. I was delirious with pain, all my hope gone. I had no more wishes left in me, just maybe to see Kolya again. To tell him I was sorry for being so stubborn. Over money, he tried to repay, over a painting I could try to recreate. Over my damaged pride that he had been rebuilding since he called in that judge to make our marriage legal.
Most of all, I wished I could stay alive long enough to watch my husband tear Vissarion’s spine out and snap it in front of me, but my hope was gone. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, so I could pretend this was all a bad dream.
My eyes weren’t closed for a minute when Vissarion burst back in, slamming the door open so hard it rattled the thin walls. The light from the other room lit him from behind, castingthe front of him in darkness, like an apparition. Turning, he closed the door and hit a switch on the wall. A lightbulb blazed overhead, blindingly bright, like an operating theater.
This isn’t real.
Except that the knife he held in front of him was very real. He came closer, phone raised in one hand, the blade waving back and forth in the other, glinting silver in the harsh light. He thrust it under my nose, muttering to himself.
“Which part of you should I send to him first?”
I recoiled as far as I could, but the cuffs clanged against the metal headboard, jerking my wrists. There was nowhere to go.
He dragged the point of the knife down the side of my face, then shook his head. “No, not the face. Not yet. Not just yet.”
I was beyond crying. My throat closed up, and my lungs seemed to stop working. He paused, stepping back thoughtfully. I could breathe again now that the knife wasn’t pressing into my skin.
“I’m going to send him a piece of you by special courier,” he said, as if I were interested. “It doesn’t have to be small, but…” he kept his distance, still looking me over from head to toe.
I thought about kicking him, but what would be the point? I had fought with every ounce of my strength, scratching and kicking and punching, and I was still here, waiting for a madman to decide which part of me to cut off first. Little by little, bit by bit. How much would it hurt, and how long could I withstand the pain?
I was shaking so violently that the bedframe rattled. Vissarion liked that, and I made an effort to stay calm. I was strong, I was a child of the Bratva. Thinking of my father made tears well up, but I couldn’t blink and take my eyes off that wicked knife for a second. As if watching it would keep it away.
He lunged without any warning, grabbing one of my hands and yanking it up so the cuff fell as far down my wrist as it could.
“I almost forgot you love to paint,” he said, spit flying into my face. “A finger or two should be a good start.”
Twisting my first and middle fingers together, he roughly pulled them back.
I screamed as I felt the blade pressing into the tender flesh, screamed and kicked out with my feet, nearly breaking my wrist to get away. I’d never be able to recreate my favorite painting now, but who was I kidding, thinking about something like that? I wouldn’t be alive in an hour or two. In desperation, I just kept screaming, shouting for Kolya.
Vissarion laughed, digging the knife deeper between my fingers. “Keep it up. I’m recording it all for your dear husband to see and hear.”
The blade pressed deeper, and I felt a warm trickle of blood on my palm as it finally sliced through my skin.
“Kolya!” I shouted with the last bit of breath I had.
Then I must have passed out, because suddenly I was dreaming. As if he heard me, as if he were real, Kolya kicked down the door. Even his voice sounded real as he bellowed at Vissarion. The shock of seeing him made the knife fall out of his hand, and then he was flying backward, slamming against the wall. The sound of his skull cracking as it shook the flimsywall was incredibly real, as well as the wet crunch of his nose breaking when Kolya jumped on him and began thrashing him with his fists.
It seemed to go on forever, or maybe just a few glorious seconds of bashing, cursing, and strangling, until Vissarion was nothing more than a bloody rag doll in the corner. Somehow, Arkadi joined the dream, rushing in and saying the house was secure, backup was on the way.
I started to pass out, the overly bright room fading—but how could I pass out when I was already unconscious and dreaming? Suddenly, I knew it wasn’t a dream, because Kolya was taking the cuffs off me, muttering curses as he fumbled with the key he must have found on Vissarion.
And then I was in his arms. Strong, warm, very real. His heart thudded hard and fast next to my ear as he crushed me to his chest, holding on tight.
“Go easy, she’s hurt,” Arkadi said.
I tried to shake my head and tell Kolya I was all right, but I was too overwhelmed. With relief, with gratitude, with love. I never wanted him to let go. He was really there. He’d found me and saved me. I had never seen him so wild, so furious. It was like he really did have feelings for me that had nothing to do with the alliance.
I managed to look up at him, taking in his handsome face, the anger still not fully dissipated. When he saw me looking at him, he softened, tried to smile, but I must have looked awful, bruised and cut.
“You’re going to be fine,” he said.
I nodded. Of course I was, now. Now that he was there. “You really do care, don’t you?” I asked.
Before he answered, I passed out, secure in his arms. The only place I wanted to be.
