Page 147 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

While his eyes slide down my body, I try not to squirm.

This is all just a show for them.

Fuckingperverts.

“This one bites,” Cardona says. “Feisty.” He chuckles darkly. “Take her to the basement.”

I lick around my lips to loosen the duct tape over my mouth. I’m not about to let them take Zoya. Theycan’tseparate us. Lord only knows what the hell will happen to her. As two guys descend on us, I shake my shoulders and spit out the duct tape.

“Don’t fuckingtouch her,” I warn. I turn to Zoya. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

Zoya looks numb at this point. She doesn’t bother fighting the guys that are hauling her up. She doesn’t even make a sound.

The guy in front of me raises his hand. Cardona clears his throat, catching the guy’s attention before he can slap me.

“No, Lorenzo. Not her face,” Cardona says dryly. He squints at me for a second and then turns away. “Clean her up. Get her something nice to wear. Something that shows off those tits.”

My eyebrows knit together. “What the fuck are you—?”

Lorenzo’s fist connects with my stomach, knocking the air out of me. I double over in pain, wincing from the pain. He got his point across: I need to shut the hell up. I try to ignore the way he grins at me as he pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, ties a knot, and shoves it between my teeth, his grubby fingers lingering to stroke my chin.

I don’t fight at this point. Why should I? It’s not like I can control what happens here.

I shudder to think about what’s waiting for me in the basement.

Lorenzo hoists me over his shoulder like I’m a bag of potatoes, hand wandering over my ass to give it a hard squeeze in the process. He takes me to a door nearby, opens it, and then descends deeper into the warehouse. I didn’t think it could get any darker than that warehouse floor.

But oh, I was so wrong about that.

Below the ground, an earthy smell smacks my nostrils. Cloudy bulbs cast yellow light over the brick walls, breaking every so often into open cells. His hand roams between my legs and draws lewd circles around my pussy. I struggle against him and try to kick, but there’s nothing I can do.

He laughs at my feeble attempt to fight. Fear and agitation take over my body as he plops me onto a cot and reaches for me. I flinch and huddle away.

The sound of a heavy chain clinks. He snaps hard metal around my wrists. Then he gives my breasts a hard squeeze and sighs.

“Shame.” He shakes his head. “Promise not to scream, and I’ll get you some water.”

Water—fuck. That sounds like a dream right now.

I frown when he plucks the gag from my mouth. “How do I know it’s not drugged?”

“You don’t.”

For a second, I think he might change his mind. My heart hammers at my throat, and my lips ache from the duct tape. The cloth didn’t exactly taste that clean either. It would be nice to have something to rinse my mouth.

But I don’t want to be unconscious in this place over a sip of water.

Twelve hours, I remember.Isn’t that what he said?

I try to swallow, but it’s like sandpaper in my throat. It grates repeatedly while I try to find my words.

Lorenzo holds up the gag. “Your choice, Ms. Austin.”

“Water,” I blurt. “Please.”

He nods and then walks out of the cell, shutting the gate behind him. It’s so archaic in here that it almost seems like a museum.

But it’s not. It’s my prison.

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