𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

ғɪғᴛʏ

Answer to the comprehension question: the Italians stole 10 mill from the russians all those years ago and that's also what he's fighting to get back. It was mentioned in the first few chapters so dw if you didn't get it <3

TW: TORTURE!!

without further adieu, I present to you the next chapter...

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DEVI BHATT

"Lets begin," Grisha says, with a certain stiffness in his voice.

"W-what?" I stumble over my words as I begin shaking my head. "No, no, no– wait!"

When I push my chair to get up Dmitri pushes me back down and suddenly my wrists are getting cuffed to the chair.

"Nah," Demyan says, grinding out a laugh. "I was suspicious with you from the fucking start I'm not holding back. You can say your worthless words later if you even can."

If you even can. Terror is screaming in my ears to get the fuck out but I can't. I'm stuck.

My mouth clamps shut.

"Maybe we should let her explain first," Feliks suggests in my favour. "This doesn't feel right to resort to the Yad trial so quickly."

Demyan's head snaps to Feliks. "Who's fucking side are you on?!"

"Don't get all pissy at me," Feliks says with a tone of warning . "I'm saying this because we don't torture women."

There's a second of silence before Demyan replies. "She killed the former don of this Bratva. My uncle. Grisha's father. Death has always been on the platter."

There are murmurs of agreement amongst the crowd around us.

"Would you have done this to her if you had caught her on that very day almost thirteen years ago?" Feliks asks, rubbing his jaw.

"We would have killed her on the fucking spot."

Feliks makes a sour face. "We would have killed a sixteen year old girl?"

All eyes become fixed on me. I laugh nervously.

"Look Feliks," Demyan stabs his knife almost threateningly, "we're doing this with or without you."

"He's not leaving," Grisha says. "No-one is leaving. Lev open the box and begin."

And that's that. His words are final. With eyes sharp as obsidian he dominates the room and reestablishes power just like that.

Her black eyes land on me as soon as the box opens, moving smooth and elegantly across the wood. The men around the room shift on their feet, some stepping backwards. Her tongue flicks out, swiping across her nose, tasting her environment.

Lev stands with his eyes glued on her movements.

The table splits in half and Grisha walks between to the middle, running his hand down the length of her reptilian body. His tall stature, towering over me is unflinching and buckled with reinforced steel. There's no getting through to him.

He picks her up leisurely and she willfully obliges and begins sliding up his arm.

No one makes a move.

He did actually mean to hold them when we went underground that day in Moscow.

My chest rises and falls quickly, the fear that had dissipated before now returning for a strike. The fear feels like venom and it's making my senses freeze and my thoughts clot.