Page 19 of Bought to Bear Bratva Heir

"Move." Grabbing my arm, he yanked me towards the private elevator I recognized instantly. I knew where I was; I knew where I was going.

Home.

I had been brought home, even though it hadn’t been my home in six years. A fresh wave of nausea hit me. I had dreamt of coming back, imagined how things could have been different if he had let us be a family, but I didn’t want to go up there now.

My feet dragged to a stop. Breathing heavily, I stared at the sleek metal doors like they were a monster which was about to swallow me whole. Which, in a way, was completely true.

"I said fucking move. I don’t have all day." His fingers dug into my arm cruelly as I stumbled.

"Fuck you," I mumbled around the gag. "I’m going to make you—" It was all bravado that I didn’t feel, but if I was going to die, then I would do it bravely.

His booming laugh cut me off. Jabbing the button, he continued to laugh. "That threat might have been scarier if you weren't covered in your own filth." He continued to laugh as I was pushed into the elevator.

I knew exactly how long it took to get from the subbasement to the penthouse because I had counted the seconds numerous times when I had been excited to get back up to Ilya. Like the time I had rushed home to tell him I was having his child. The child I had just met.

Now I dreaded it.

The goon's laughter had faded away by the time we reached the top, and his face turned serious. Like he didn’t want Ilya to know what he had just threatened.

His hand closed cruelly around my arm again. Not stopping, he dragged me across the open-plan room that seemed more homier now than it had been. I was sure I saw a toy box overflowing with toys by the window, but couldn’t be sure because we were walking too fast.

"Here she is." I was all but thrown into the room, again landing heavily on my bloody knees. A sob ripped from my throat. Tears blinded me for a second before I blinked them away.

My room. This was my room. The one I had been brought to that first night. Every single thing about it was the same. Right down to the photo of me and my father at my graduation on the nightstand.

"You can leave. Take the night off," Ilya said from the chair in the corner.

"I’ll have to get the car detailed. She—"

There was a sniff and the sound of someone climbing to their feet. "I can smell it."

I stayed on my knees as Ilya walked slowly towards me.

Keeping my head down, I tried to breathe quietly. Like that would make a difference. There was nowhere to hide, and I wouldn’t get far if I ran.

"Welcome home, Daisy," his voice was deadly quiet.

"Ilya—" I tried to say around the gag, but all that did was make me choke on my too-dry mouth. Hanging my head again, I gagged.

I didn’t know how long it had been since I’d last had a drink, but it felt like forever.

Ilya's hand was more gentle than his goon's as he heaved me to my feet and tugged the gag out of my mouth, but I kept my head down, sucking in deep breaths that did nothing to help the panic gripping me.

"Won’t you look at me?" he asked quietly. His voice a smooth velvet whisper. But without the gentleness that I was used to from him. This whisper was full of threat.

I clenched my thighs together before I could lose control of my bladder again.

I shook my head, my eyes glued to my bare feet.

Gripping my chin, he tilted my chin up. "Look at me."

I did. I was powerless to do anything but stare into his blue eyes. So beautiful, but so cold.

Ilya searched my face. And then reached for the bottle of water on the side. Tipping it to my dry lips, he let me drink half the bottle before snatching it away from me. A weird mewling sound left my lips. I wanted more. Needed more. It felt like I hadn’t had a drink in weeks.

"You should have stayed dead, Daisy."

I hated the quietness of his voice. The promise of pain was all too real in it. It was the kind of voice that was whispered in your ear just before your throat was slit.