Page 38 of Cruel Russian Pakhan
As I read through the attached file, my chest tightened.
She grew up in foster care. Was adopted at age thirteen. She had her degree. Worked at a diner to put herself through college. The day I kidnapped her, she’d been on her way to a job interview.
Timur even included a photo of Katya with her adoptive parents. But he didn’t stop there. He dug deeper, and what he found made my skin crawl.
Katya was a Rykov.
Timur found footage of their deceased father, the late Bratva leader, entering and leaving hotels with the same blonde woman, each and every time. The man had been having an affair for over a year.
Fuck.
She’d been telling the truth this whole time.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.
“Lev, you really fucked up this time,” I muttered under my breath.
She had no job, no home and no money. All because of me.
Artyom declaring us enemies? I had put her in danger. That was on me, too. I’d married the wrong woman and kicked off a war I never wanted.
Shit.
But acknowledging a mistake wasn’t enough. My father drilled that into me. Mistakes were meant to be corrected.
And that’s exactly what I intended to do.
I grabbed my phone and dialed.
“Safin, what do you want?” Artyom’s voice snapped on the other end.
“We need to talk.”
Chapter 14 - Katya
It had been five days since my life was thrown into a higher level of limbo. Once again, I was locked in my room. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep, not knowing what was in store for me.
Unanswered questions played on a loop in my mind: Had Lev done his research on me? Did he find out the truth? Is he mad he made a mistake, and now he’s punishing me by keeping me here?
My head throbbed as I curled deeper under the covers. I just needed this to end. If Lev didn’t show up today, I’d bang on the door until he did, or smash the windows. I’d pick the lock again, shimmy out, and risk getting shot by his guards, if that was what it took to close this chapter of my life. Because not knowing my fate was worse than death.
I sighed and closed my eyes, thinking of Ninel and Mariya.
Just when I started to believe that maybe being married to Lev might be bearable, because his sisters were so sweet, life did what it always did: it took my happiness away.
The key turned in the lock, but I didn’t move. I was worn out. Lev had won.
I just lay there in the dark, thankful he didn’t flick the lights on as I heard his footsteps approach.
The bed dipped near my hip.
He stroked my cheek, and despite everything, my desire to see his face outweighed my need to ignore him.
“Are you okay? Why are you in the dark at two in the afternoon?”
“I’m fine,” I said calmly, even as sparks from his touch scattered down my spine. “You came here for a reason. Are you going to let me go?”
“No.” He sighed. “Is it okay if I turn the light on? I’d like to see you when we have this conversation.”
