Diego was pussy-whipped, and I was right. But he isn’t the only one, is he, dorogoy? You really do love that mangy little prick. You came running like a good little bitch when I sent you that video footage. Did you know it was taken two hours before I sent it to you? By the time I called, your husband had already come and left from my building.”
His taunting laughter sends a surge of heat through me, and exhaustion and pain melt away in the face of my rage.
“Fuck you,” I snap, lunging clumsily in his direction. My arms jerk when the rope brings me up short, my shoulders screaming from being nearly torn from their sockets. My legs splay uselessly beneath me, my body sagging.
Viktor grabs my chin, his fingers tight enough to leave fingerprints. He wrenches my head back and slowly begins to stand, pulling me up with him. I scramble for balance, my legs tingling when the blood goes rushing into them. My neck strains and aches from the way he’s holding me up, his jaw jutting out as he stares at me as if I’m a lowly slug.
“That feisty mouth of yours would piss me off if it wasn’t so goddamn sexy,” he growls, forcing the insides of my cheeks against my teeth until I taste blood. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you, little by little. You want to know what my game is? Once your husband is gone, I intend to keep you for as long as you amuse me. You fascinate me … you have ever since the night you appeared in my father’s house, so defiant. You’re a fighter, and I like that. It’ll be a shame to destroy that but … well, I could never resist a challenge.”
I jerk my face out of his grasp and sneer at him, forced onto my tiptoes by the short pull of the rope. “You don’t have the balls to break me, you spineless little bitch. You’re just a pale imitation of your father, wishing you could live up to Daddy’s greatness. You’re a fucking disgrace, pitiful in every way.”
The last word is hardly spoken before I’m choking and coughing as my mouth and nose are flooded with vodka. Viktor hurled his liquor in my face, and now drops the glass. It shatters all over the floor. With a snarl I spew a mouthful of saliva and vodka at his eyes, too furious to care that he has me at a disadvantage. I’ve already let him trick me into getting myself in danger; I won’t allow him to turn me into a sniveling, weak bitch.
Viktor lets out a string of sharp, unintelligible Russian before slamming his fist into my stomach. My belly quivers and seizes, and I double over, my wrists wrenched up behind me as I wheeze and fight for breath. My body snaps back up when he backhands me across the face, filling my mouth with blood and making me feel like my head is going to spin right off my neck.
My legs give out from under me, and I slam into the floor, the impact rattling my bones and making my teeth clatter.
Viktor lands a kick in the center of my chest, sending me sprawling against the wall. “You sound just like the rest of them,” he rasps, his voice deepened by heavy breaths and a snarling edge. Apparently, I hit a nerve. “I’ve done everything that man has ever asked of me. I’ve been the perfect son. I’ve killed for him! I helped build an empire worthy of any great bratva family … but do I get any recognition? No, I get compared to the son he wishes he had—the mongrel wetback who let his mama help him murder his way onto his father’s throne!”
Even with my head slumped toward my chest and my entire body throbbing with agony, I can’t hold in the laughter that wells in my chest. It starts as low giggles and slowly increases into the full-throated cackles of a cartoon witch.
“You stupid jackass,” I wheeze out between laughs. “You spoiled little shit. That’s what this is about? You’re jealous of Diego? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You could never be half the man he is.”
Viktor makes a move toward me, hand raised as if to hit me again. I watch him through the sweaty strands of hair hanging in my eyes and wait for the pain. If he’s going to kill me, I’d rather provoke him