Page 11 of Bought By the Ruthless Pakhan

Across the street, at the entrance of the alley, a lean middle-aged man was slamming the girl against the wall. Her head cracked against the brick—I could hear it from half a block away. She didn't make a sound. Like she was used to it.

Dmitri kept talking, but I couldn't hear him anymore, because the girl turned her face and I saw her hair—honey-gold, glowing in the sunlight like a streak of light that didn't belong there.

It was her. Anna Bennett.

My temples pounded. Rage shot up my spine and exploded in my skull.

I caught the man's wrist before his strike could land. I didn't bother arguing with him. With just a little force, I heard him howl in pain.

"Who the fuck are you? She's my daughter. I'll discipline her however I want!"

So this was her bastard father.

I glanced at Anna's pale face. Blood at the corner of her mouth. Breathing shallow with fear. Red marks on her wrists where he'd dragged her.

The fire in my chest was about to detonate.

Poor kitten. Left alone for five minutes and look what happened to her.

I twisted his arm. It popped out of the socket.

"Ah—"

He collapsed like a sack of garbage, writhing on the ground.

I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over Anna's shoulders.

She looked bad. Trembling all over. Could barely lift her head to look at me.

"Hey, Anna."

I said her name.

Her shoulders flinched. Slowly, she raised her eyes to mine. Red-rimmed. Voice stuttering. "Mr. Volkov."

Oh, God. A woman this sweet should be worshipped, not thrown into an alley and beaten by her own father.

I touched the dried blood at the corner of her mouth. She flinched but didn't pull away. Something stabbed through my chest. It hurt.

That idiot. What kind of father was he?

"Want revenge?" I asked her.

I picked up a wooden plank lying nearby and held it out to her. "Use this."

Anna looked dazed. She stared at the plank, eyes widening, then stepped back until she hit the cold wall.

She'd been hurt too badly. She didn't even have the courage to get close to her own hatred.

That was fine. I could help her. I swung the plank down hard onto her father's head.

He screamed louder.

"He won't hurt you again."

Anna's eyes welled up. "Sir, can you take me away from here?"

Her lashes were wet, like butterfly wings soaked in rain. Fragile enough to make my chest tighten.