Page 16 of Forced Bratva Kidnapped Virgin
“Go ahead,” he challenged the man. “I’d love to watch you snap her neck like a twig.”
“What?” The squeezed exclamation fell off my lips.
My captor must’ve mistaken me for someone important, someone he could trade his life for. He was wrong. I was just a prisoner who couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
His grip loosened ever so slightly, and I could sense his unease after he realized the boss didn’t give two shits about me. His breathing grew more labored by the second, his desperation rising at the same pace.
He was screwed now, and he knew it.
The only question was, was I screwed too?
In his desperation, the man squeezed my neck more tightly, as if he were trying to suffocate me. My eyes widened in terror as I struggled against his arm. To no avail.
When I met the boss’s gaze, he was calm as fuck, a pesky little smirk on his face. He watched as this man slowly strangled me from behind and did nothing. That grin on his lips told me one thing.
He was enjoying the show.
My vision began to blur, and I started losing strength. The room was swirling, and the background noise faded as I drifted unconscious.
That asshole actually stood there, refusing to stop this maniac from sending me to an early grave.
My hands fell to my sides, and the last thing I heard before passing out was a loud gunshot. It echoed in my head, and my body collapsed to the floor.
Out like a light.
Chapter 6 — Nial
All she had to do was ask for help, but she didn’t. Instead, she chose pride, and it almost got her killed. Even in the face of death, this woman refused to yield to my authority. She knew one word from me would have saved her, yet she chose death.
Interesting.
I sat on a wooden chair in the room, eyes fixed on her motionless body sprawled across the floor. My legs were crossed, my fingers tapping quietly against the armrest. Blood pooled beneath her, staining her dress and her golden-brown hair.
A small smirk played on my lips as I watched, waiting in silence for the moment of truth. As time passed, my gaze lingered on her, drinking in every detail. The faint freckles on her nose, the curves on her chest, and the delicate shape of her lips.
She looked so innocent, harmless, and quite fragile. There was nothing tough about this motionless body; all I saw was vulnerability at its peak. Although a part of me wished she’d asked for help, I was glad she didn’t. If she had, I wouldn’t have been so entertained by this sight.
I glanced at my watch, muttering, “Any minute now.”
That’s when it happened—she finally came to with a sharp gasp, jolting upright. She met my eyes, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths.
“There you are,” I said, my voice smooth and gentle. “I was beginning to think you’d transcended to the other side.”
She stared at me, puzzled, eyes wide with bewilderment. It was as though her brain had yet to process what had happened. She glanced around, shaking as she saw the blood on the floor and stains on her hands.
Her lips trembled as she spotted the body on the ground behind her, drowning in the pool of his blood. It was her attacker’s corpse with a hole in the head.
That’s when it clicked, and her eyes widened at the realization. She tilted her head toward me, anger flickering in her gaze. “You son of a bitch.”
“Whoa, language,” I said calmly, retaining my crooked smirk. “That’s no way to speak to the man who saved your life.”
“Oh, please!” She struggled to her feet, fuming as blood dropped from her palms. “You shot him only after he almost choked me to death!” The fury in her tone was palpable.
I liked it.
“I never said I shot him.”
“It doesn’t matter who did!” she snapped. “You stood there and did nothing while that maniac tried to kill me!”
