Page 18 of Bought to Bear Bratva Heir

Rough carpet.

That meant I wasn’t in my grave. I rubbed my fingers across it. It wasn’t the kind of carpet someone had in their home. It was rougher.

I sniffed, trying to find another clue, but all I could smell was vomit and piss.

Still, I lifted my head just slightly. Enough to peer around me in the darkness. Nothing. I couldn’t see anything.

Something that sounded like a car alarm blared, making me jump and hit my head on the metal above me.

A car.

I sucked in a pungent breath. I was in a car. Probably the trunk.

Not dead. Not buried alive.

Although I wasn’t sure this was much better.

I settled myself back down, my cheek resting on my hand as I curled up around myself.

No, this wasn’t much better. This was torture. I was locked in the dark, covered in my own waste, and I didn’t know what was going to happen to me.

Which, I realized, was the whole point. Ilya wanted me to suffer.

He wanted me to cry.

A single tear slipped down my face as I squeezed my eyes together and waited.

I didn’t know how long I waited. Time seemed to stand still in the blackness, but it was long enough for my muscles to cramp. And I couldn’t stretch out to relieve them.

Red-hot burning was making me shake when the trunk was finally opened. Low lights from the underground parking garage blinded me. Throwing up a hand to cover my eyes, I tried to shy away from the huge shadowy figure that reached in for me.

My hands flapped uselessly as something was rammed between my teeth again, locking my scream in my throat.

Hard hands lifted me out of my dark prison, and a gargle of disgust ripped its way out of the man’s throat as he dropped me.

"You’re disgusting, Daisy," he growled out, wiping his piss- and puke-soaked hands down his trousers. My legs wouldn’t work after so long cramped up, so I fell to the hard ground the second he let go of me.

Sobbing, I looked up at him.

Not Ilya. This man was bigger. More brute-like. I didn’t recognize his face, but he clearly knew me.

"The boss wants you upstairs." He continued to look down at me coldly. "But am I fuck carrying you up there. Did you piss yourself?" There was a mocking tone to his voice. Like it wasn’t absolutely normal to wet yourself when you were afraid. I wanted to scream that at him, but my mouth was full of a rag, and I could barely breathe, let alone talk.

I hung my head.

"Get up."

How could I tell him that I couldn’t?

"Get the fuck up, Daisy, and walk. I ain't carrying you, you stink."

I knew I did, but it wasn’t like I could help it.

"Get up, otherwise I’ll put a bullet in your skull right now and save the boss the trouble."

Shoulders shaking, I slowly lifted my head to him. The first flash of defiance entered my eyes. He wasn’t going to murder me. If Ilya wanted me dead, then I would have been dead by now. Whatever Ilya had in store for me upstairs, he wanted me alive for it, otherwise I would be rotting in a shallow grave somewhere.

Slowly, because my muscles screamed in protest with every movement, I pushed myself to my feet.