Page 10 of The Pakhan's Dangerous Secret
"Let me go!" I thrash against their hold, but it's like fighting against steel chains. They're too strong, too coordinated. "I don't know anything! I can't help you!"
"We'll see about that," he says.
The beast pulls something from his pocket. At first, I think it's a weapon, and terror floods through me. But it's not a gun or a knife.
It's a bag. A black cloth bag.
"No," I gasp, understanding what's about to happen. "No, please, don't?—"
But my pleas fall on deaf ears. The bag comes down over my head, plunging me into darkness. I can still breathe, the fabric is thin enough for that, but I can't see anything. I can't orient myself. Panic claws at my chest, making my heart race so fast, I think it might explode.
I feel hands on me, lifting me, carrying me. I try to fight, but without being able to see, my movements are uncoordinated and ineffective. I hear the sound of a car door opening, and then I'm being pushed into a backseat. My hands and ankles are bound before I even realize what's happening.
The leather is cool against my skin but the space is confined. I try to sit up, to reach for the door handle even though I can't see where it is, but someone's hand presses down on my shoulder, holding me in place.
"Don't," a voice says. The beast. His tone is flat, emotionless. "Make this easy."
Easy? There's nothing easy about this. I'm being kidnapped by Russian mobsters who think I know where my father is. Who think I have information about stolen heirlooms and hidden fortunes. They're going to take me somewhere private, somewhere no one will hear me scream, and they're going to hurt me until I tell them what they want to know.
And I can't tell them anything because I don't know anything.
The car door slams shut, and I hear the engine start. Where are they taking me? Will I ever see daylight again? Will I ever see my father?
All I know is that the life I've carefully built over the past nine years, the quiet, invisible existence that kept me safe, is over.
The Bratva has found me.
And now I'm at their mercy.
6
ANDREY
Ipress my hand against my side, feeling the warm stickiness of blood seeping through my shirt. The wound throbs with each beat of my heart, a constant reminder that I underestimated Mariya Pushkin.
Matvey glances at me from the driver's seat, his dark eyes flicking to my side before returning to the road. His expression is as blank as always, but I know him well enough to see what others would miss. There's a slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the barest hint of amusement dancing in their depths.
The bastard is laughing at me.
"Not a word," I warn him.
He doesn't say anything, but his lips twitch. Just barely, but enough that I catch it.
"I mean it, Matvey."
He shrugs one massive shoulder, still silent, but I can feel his amusement radiating off him in waves. And why wouldn't he be amused? I'm a Pakhan, a man who's survived countless fights,who's built an empire through violence and strategy, and I just got stabbed by a librarian.
I'll never live this down.
In the backseat, Mariya thrashes against her restraints, her muffled curses barely audible through the gag Matvey had to put in her mouth after she wouldn't stop screaming. The black bag is still over her head, her wrists and ankles bound with zip ties. She fought us the entire way to the car, kicking and clawing like a wildcat. It took both of us to get her secured.
I have to admit, I'm impressed. Most people would have given up by now, accepted their fate, but not her. She's still fighting, still refusing to surrender even though she has to know it's useless.
The drive to my estate takes thirty minutes, and Mariya doesn't stop struggling the entire time. By the time we pull through the gates, I can hear her breathing hard through the bag, exhausted but still defiant.
Matvey parks in front of the main house and comes around to open my door. I climb out slowly, my side screaming in protest. The wound isn't deep, I know that much. She didn't hit any major organs, didn't nick anything vital. But it still hurts like a bitch and bleeds like crazy.
"Take her to the interrogation room," I tell Matvey as he pulls Mariya from the backseat. "I need to get this stitched up."
