AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He only laughs.
Using the collar, he drags me up the stairs. I’ve got my sweatpants back on, but I’m still naked from the waist up. I try to use my arms to hide my breasts, but he moves with such long strides that I end up needing to hold them out to keep my balance. I sense the leery stares of the other men as I pass by. Maybe I shouldn’t care anymore. They’ve already masturbated to Kirill and me fucking, and came on us, too. Worse, they made me spread my legs so they could see that Kirill came inside me, the depraved fuckers. What should I care that they get another eye-full of my tits?
I do care, though. Shame covers me in its sticky coat, but then I shrug it off. No, I won’t be the one to feel shame here. They should. Rage boils through me, and that’s a much more welcome emotion. How dared these men treat us like this? I hate Kirill’s father more than anyone else—more, even, than Paxton, and I never thought I’d hate anyone more than him.
I’m dragged up the stairs and into the basic but clean bathroom. I can’t see any sign of my blood or the discarded implant or the razor blade. Grigoriy still has my wedding dress in his other hand, and he steps into the bathroom with me and shuts the door behind him.
He releases his hold on my collar.
“What are you doing?” I say. “Get out.”
“And leave you in here alone to try to escape or find a weapon? I think not.”
“I’m not going to try to escape. Not while you’ve got Kirill locked down there.”
He eyes me curiously. “You would choose to remain here rather than escape alone?”
“Of course. I’m not leaving him.”
It’s as though I’m speaking another language to him.
“So, if I were to open the door, and tell you to run, you’d stay because of my son?”
I fold my arms over my breasts. “Yes. I’m not leaving without him.”
“Some might say that is stupid, little Kitten.”
Maybe I am being stupid, but I like that he doesn’t understand why I am doing this. I don’t believe for a second that he’s just going to let me run—or, if he did, it would only be so he could chase me down like some kind of fucking sport. But now I’m playing with him, because he doesn’t have any clue what it must be like to sacrifice yourself for another person. The very idea is utterly foreign to him.
“Some might, but others might say it is brave,” I reply.
He laughs. “You misunderstand. I like this choice you make. It is brave, and loyal. I knew you’d make a strong Bratva wife. It is just perhaps over and above what I expected of you.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for Kirill.”
He angles his head. “You love him. You actually love my son.”
His face lights up, and, for the first time, he looks vaguely human.
“Of course I do.”
“Then you will make an excellent bride and mother, and I have done the right thing. You two just needed the push. I’m practically a saint.”
He’s smug in his self-praise, and I stare at him in loathing.
That is all women are in his world—wives and mothers. There to be fucked and bred, and to raise the children. I pity them, and I vow to not end up like them. God, imagine being trapped in a home with him always around like a dark, malign presence.
My bladder is aching, and I need to use the toilet. Just seeing it so close has only intensified the urge. “I need to pee.”
“Then pee,” he says with amusement.
“I’m not going to use the bathroom with you watching.”
He shrugs. “Then do not urinate. It makes no difference to me.”
I ball my fists, digging my nails into my palms. Trying to pretend he’s not there, I yank down my sweatpants and filthy panties, and sink gratefully onto the toilet. For a second, I don’t think I’m able to go, but then I relieve myself with a sigh and cover my face with my hands, my elbows on my knees.
I finish and lift my head to find Grigoriy still watching. Sick bastard.
