Page 10 of Sworn to Consume
Bay grabs Kayla’s arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“No!” Kayla fights her, trying to twist free.
But Bay doesn’t flinch. She raised a son who turned into a tsunami of uncontained craziness. Kayla is nothing compared to that.
“I trusted you not to ruin my date!” she yells, fists clenched, tears in her eyes. She’s not crying for the right reasons, and it shows.
Before I can snap back, Myko’s roar explodes through the restroom—so loud it shakes the walls and makes the floor tremble.
Kayla freezes.
She knows better than to argue with Myko. Good.
“I hate you!” she screams at me, then storms out with Bay dragging her behind.
And now?
The glow under my skin hums, ready. I can finally focus on my first meal of the day.
Roran
The lingering sting of the slap still echoes across my cheek, locking my body in place. My pulse pounds, quick and frantic. Seconds later, the burn creeps in—slow, sinking deeper, as if his palm left fire under my skin.
“This is what you call keeping your sister safe?” My father’s roar crashes through the room. I flinch, but I don’t respond.
His icy eyes spear me, glacial and merciless, like they’ve been doing since I was a child. That stare has always been a prison. It freezes me in place, keeps my voice trapped in my throat where it belongs.
His dark blond hair is slicked back like always, not a strand out of place, as if violence never touches him. But it does. Itstartswith him. There’s nothing warm in his features. Nothing kind. Just power, discipline, and disgust—especially when he looks at me.
I don’t move. I just breathe and bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. It’s the only control I have left—choosing where the pain comes from.
After twenty-one years as the eldest daughter of the head of the Bratva in New York, I’ve learned how to take a beating with silence.
He hides us well—Diana and me. Keeps us out of sight. Pretends wedon’texist.
All anyone knows is hislegitimateson—the golden boy he parades around like a trophy—Dimitry Morozov.
No one ever talks about the daughter he had with one of his side women. Or the second daughter, he refused to acknowledge but refuses to let go of.
He cheated on his wife and got my mother pregnant—and somehow, we’re the ones paying for it.
Even inside the organization, no one knows the truth. They know me and Diana only fromKonfetki—the family-owned strip club I run with a clipboard and a stare sharp enough to draw blood.
I keep the strippers in line. I make sure the clients pay. I keep the men filth in check, sometimes even get the dirty job done for him.
And yet... it’sneverenough.
Another slap slams across the other side of my face, snapping my head in the opposite direction. My teeth sink into my lip, and the sharp, familiar taste of iron hits my tongue again.
“Suddenly you’re at a loss for words?” he hisses, his voice slick with venom.
“I apologize, Father. I’ll keep a closer eye on her.”
He doesn’t know where she got drunk or how. Just that she did.
If he knew it was in a bar outside our protection—one thatisn’tBratva-owned—he’d scar her. Maybe worse. Maybe he’d break her hands and call it discipline.
“That’s what you told me the last time, Roran.” His tone sharpens. “Or did you forget she’s promised to the Petrov family? She can’t be touched.”
