Page 67 of Bratva Menace

Pumping my legs harder, I slipped through the open gate. I turned the corner and ran smack into a guard. I didn’t hesitate, palming a knife in the front of my maid uniform. I pulled it out and rammed it up underneath his chin, yanked it out, spun, and sent it flying to another guard, who had just raised his gun behind me.

I didn’t wait to watch him fall. I jumped right on my bike, started it, and sped away just as a round of gunfire hit the air. The ground exploded around me from bullets. Fear and adrenaline punched me in the gut. I banished it away, bent forward, tucked my elbows in, and accelerated, not looking back.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

LUKYAN VOLKOV

“We gonna rock down to Electric Avenue!”

I bolted upright, the sound of music thumping against the walls so loudly they shook, waking me from my sleep. My gaze whipped around the room. Disorientation filled me for a brief moment before I fought my way through it, jumping out of bed.

Memories bombarded me, hitting me all at once like a tidal wave. The wedding. The altar. Beautiful, honey-colored eyes.

“Fuuuuuuck.” I ran to the door. Locked. “Fucking fuck fuck!” There was a window to the left, thick, heavy black curtains covering the glass. I flung them to the side and was faced with a steel roller sitting just behind the glass.

“Argh!” I yelled, slamming my closed fists down onto the dresser underneath the windowpane. I spun around, my eyes darting haphazardly from one end of the room to the other, looking for another form of escape.

There was none. I was in a standard bedroom. Beautifully decorated with plush, stylish rugs, oak furniture, and a huge four-poster bed. There was a bathroom off to the side, but even from my vantage point, I could see there would be no escape from there either.

My head pounded like a jackhammer, the music playing continuously in the background not helping matters whatsoever. I needed to get my bearings. Figure out what the fuck was going on. A plate of sandwiches and crackers sat on a tall table near the door, next to a glass of water.

That was what I needed. Fuel. Then I could fucking think straight.

I grabbed the plate and sat down on the edge of the bed, not hesitating to scoff it down.

Okay. What do I know? What are the facts? I’d not only been kidnapped by the woman who had been stalking me for the better part of a year, but she’d also tricked me into marrying her. That was something I had not been expecting. I knew she was crazy, but crazy enough to pull off a stunt like that?

No fucking way.

Now what was I going to do? Conversation from the night before flitted through my mind. I couldn’t take her words at face value. Just because she said everything would be okay, that my sister would be safe, didn’t mean I could believe it. My grandfather made it very clear what would happen if I didn’t marry Anya. How did I know that what Lyla told me was even the truth? I needed to talk to someone. My brothers. My father. Anyone. I needed to get the fuck out.

The music abruptly stopped. Thank fucking God. There was a rattle at the door, then, the knob began to turn. I placed my empty plate down and slid off the bed, crouching low. The door opened, and I lunged.

Lyla twisted and used my body’s momentum against me to throw me to the side. I crashed into the side table up against the hallway wall, smashing it to pieces. Ow.

Lyla sighed. “I see you’re still upset.”

I looked up at her amongst the rubble to see her standing calmly in front of me, dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt, casual jeans, and a pair of black-and-white Converse.

She was fucking beautiful. I hoped I’d hallucinated her beauty, but that was certainly not the fucking case. My eyes ran the length of her body, starting from her ankles, slowly going up and up until our gazes locked. An aura filled the air—one filled with such raw, sexual magnetism it made my breath catch in my fucking throat. Jesus. I’d never been so attracted to someone like that before. So enamored. So fucking interested in another.

I picked myself up, wiping the dust from my clothes, and stared her down. “So what now? You going to lock me back in the room?”

“I thought we could go on a date.”

I blinked, surprised. Say what? She wants to go on a date? As in, leave the house?

I tried not to show my excitement. This would be my chance to get the fuck out of here. “Okay. Date sounds nice.”

She smiled. “Wonderful! Let’s go.”

Lyla turned and started making her way down the hallway. I followed, my eyes scanning for anything I could use to my advantage. She led me down a large, circular staircase. First down one flight. Then two. All the way to the foyer. My eyes couldn’t help but track her ass the entire time. It was a good one. Plush and round. An image of me biting into it, leaving my teeth marks on her soft skin soared through my mind, and because I was a horny fucking bastard, my cock instantly hardened.

“Enjoying the view?” she asked casually, strolling right for the front door.

“Yes.” I didn’t see the point in lying. It wasn’t exactly like I could hide it.

She threw me a sexy-as-fuck smirk over her shoulder. In any other circumstance, I would have taken advantage of the burning sexual tension between us. It would be hot. Rough. Fucking unbelievable. But for once, I had to think with my head and not my dick.