Page 8 of The Bratva Sinner

"Get her to the back office," I tell Damien.

He gives me a look. Fair enough. There’s an unwritten rule in our world. You don’t steal other people’s property. I don’tsee women as property, but they do. And what I just took is obviously a prized possession.

I watch Damien easily scoop her up. She doesn't fight. She's barely conscious. Up close, I see the bruises under the makeup. Fresh ones. Her beautiful blonde hair has a splotch of blood.

“Wait,” I tell Damien.

I carefully push aside the hair and wince. Damien slowly shakes his head. “She’s in bad shape.”

“Get her out of here. My place. I’ll get Cinder.”

Her eyes crack open. Confusion and terror stare back at me.

“Please,” she whispers.

Fuck.

I’m not giving her back.

3

Lila

Nausea pulls me from the blackness. I moan and will it away.

Everything hurts. My head, my arms, my legs. Even my eyelids hurt when I open my eyes. I force them apart anyway and immediately regret it. Sunlight blinds me.

I squeeze my eyes closed.

I have the worst hangover. I don’t remember drinking. Who was I with? Slowly, I open my eyes again and look around the room.

Where the hell am I?

I try to sit up, but my body doesn't cooperate. It feels like my head has been stuffed with cotton. My limbs feel heavy and disconnected, like they aren’t mine. I prop myself up on one elbow, look down at myself, and frown.

I'm wearing an oversized T-shirt that falls to mid-thigh. It's soft and feels expensive. Definitely not mine. I note the red marks on my wrists and the bruises all over my arms.

Panic claws its way up my throat as I look around the room. It feels wrong.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and have to grab the edge of the bed to keep from falling. The room spins. I feel the burn of bile at the back of my throat.

Did I fall off a horse? I try to remember. Was I training one of the colts? Sometimes, they buck. I've been thrown before, but I don’t have any recollection of a horse incident.

I stand in the room on legs that feel like rubber and close my eyes. I’m not well. Where’s Mama? She should be here.

The memory slams into me with the force of a freight train, and I fall to the bed. Every ounce of strength I have is gone.

The trailer. The black SUV. The men.

Mama.

Oh, God. Mama.

I see her face. That one eye staring at me. The blood. So much blood.

They killed her. They killed my mama, and then they took me.

I need to call the police. I need to tell them what happened. I need to get out of this place.