Page 68 of Arranged Curves for the Bratva
“I'm leaving,” I said, grabbing my purse and reaching for the door handle.
He caught my arm, his grip painful. “You're not going anywhere.”
I remember turning ice cold as I looked back at him. “If you don't let me go right now, I'll scream until every person at that party comes running. And then I'll call my brothers.”
He released me, and his face twisted with hatred. “Fucking bitch. Get out then. You were just a game anyway.”
I ran all the way to the main road before calling a friend to pick me up. From then on, I avoided him at all costs. I never looked back.
That was until I agreed to marry Agafon. I knew Agafon was aware of my history with Nikandr because I’d met him once when he was visiting Nikandr on campus.
And now, I wonder what Nikandr told him. Looking back, I don’t know how I broke him, since Nikandr was broken from the moment I met him.
I thought Agafon knew that. I thought he had guessed as much, and from the way he treated me since we got married, with dignified respect, I believed he was falling for me.
I fell in love with my husband. And now I know it was all a lie.
My phone buzzes again, pulling me back to the present. Through tearful eyes, I glance at it. There are seventeen missed calls from Agafon, three from my brother Lion, two from Agafon's sister Tatiana, and many others. Agafon noticed I’ve gone, and now he’s calling my family and his.
Fuck.
When the phone starts ringing again, I grab it, ready to silence it once more, but something stops me. I need to tell Agafon the truth so he stops calling my family, so he realizes that the only danger I’m in is from him.
I answer but say nothing.
“Beth? Where are you?” He sounds worried sick, like he cares.
My throat closes up. I can't speak.
“Lilibeth.” His tone shifts slightly. “Are you in trouble?”
I try to exhale, but instead, it’s a choked sob that comes out.
“Beth?” he asks now, panic lacing his voice.
“You’re quite the actor, you know that?” I begin to cry, so angry that he calls me, acting like he’s worried. Like he cares.
There’s silence on the other end. Then he asks, “What are you talking about?”
I try not to say more, but I can no longer hold the pain at bay. “I heard you. With Nikandr. About how you married me to make me pay for what I supposedly did to him.”
There’s a thick silence, and I can feel him scrambling for an answer. I close my eyes, knowing there’s no answer that would be good enough to make this pain go away.
“Where are you?” he asks again, softer. “Look. Let me get you and we can talk.”
“You should have just told me,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “If you wanted to hurt me, you could have just done it directly. The pretending was cruel.”
“I'm coming to get you,” he says instead of addressing my accusation.
“Don't bother. I'm not your wife anymore. I'm not your anything.” My voice breaks on the last word.
“You're mine,” he growls, and I hate how those two simple words still affect me. “And we're not having this conversa—”
Just then, the door to the hut crashes open. I scream as I see two men in black rush in. I barely have time to register what’s happened before they reach toward me and take me in their hold.
I bite down on a hand and taste leather. One of the men curses but doesn't let go, instead pressing a cloth to my face. The chemical smell hits me first, then dizziness sweeps through me like a wave.
The last thing I see before darkness takes me is the sight of my phone, lying discarded on the couch.
