AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m angry.
The man pushes away from me, his stroll back to his desk, lazy. I watch as he swipes his phone from his desk, his thumb punching into the screen. Then I listen in silence to the ring.
A man answers, his English slow and heavily accented, but still clear. “Kirill.” Is that my devil’s name? “Ilya tells me you have my darling sister.”
“I do.” He puts his finger to his lips, warning me to stay silent.
I don’t think I could speak if someone promised me an island away from the whole of this ugly world. My grief—my anger—it’s all too much.
“I hope you are calling me to arrange a trade.”
“What you do you think I want for her?”
The man—my brother, I suppose—considers. “An end to this war?”
“The Volkovs are winning. Give me a better offer.”
I can’t believe this is happening right now.
“I hear you’re considering a wife. That you need an heir.”
My brother drops a pause. Kirill, my monster, speaks. His voice is low and lazy. “I’m listening.”
“I have girls. Beautiful girls.”
My devil’s lip twitches. “You think I want your stolen property, Artyom?”
I feel my stomach drop into my feet. Is he saying—does he mean—is he talking about trafficked people? No.
Hadn’t he implied the same of my own father? The man who cared for, and protected me, so diligently from the horrors of this world. Who held me between tender hands? The very same man who relayed to me his disgust at the flippant way girls and women today gave their bodies—and how my body was to be cherished. A temple. Not to be given thoughtlessly or outside the vows of marriage. The same man who sheltered me so diligently—he couldn’t be this terrible thing they claimed. Could he?
God, please…
“Is it not better to have a cunt who knows her place than a woman who believes she is free?” Artyom asks, disbelieving. “No, you want trained pussy. Pussy who knows her place. Looks pretty in the pictures. You can kill her when she gives you your heir.” He pauses, considers again, and then, “But if you want a virgin?—”
“What will you do with your sister?” Kirill’s eyes hold mine as I sob in silence. My heart and soul are so terribly sore. My faith? Ruined.
This world is far from the beautiful place I once thought it was. The good I believed once prevailed has been smothered under the flame of this hideously gruesome reality that exists in the shadows beneath a smokescreen of handsome smiles and wealth. I hate it.
“Why do you care?” The tension in Artyom’s voice seeps through the line, a dangerous thing.
Kirill laughs, but it’s not real. It’s a dark response to the tension in Artyom’s question. “She’s been—trouble.”
“She will break.”
“I’m curious, will you kill her?”
“My father’s little angel? No.” It’s Artyom’s turn to laugh, but it’s a bitter, angry thing that is tinged in jealousy. He’d known of me—of my existence. “I’d rather see her torn to pieces. I’ll make his precious angel a whore, as he’s made so many other beautiful dolls, whores. Eventually, when she’s been used one too many times, I’ll have to put her down. If someone doesn’t put the little bitch down for me.”
Kirill’s eyes drill into mine. I know exactly what he sees, an acceptance of my fate.
Here.
With him.
As his.
This is about survival. And he is the devil I know…
