Page 14 of Wicked Villain

She took pride in being older than me by five minutes, so thought it was her job to impart wisdom in whatever ways she could.

I never listened, and that time was no different. I saw a window of opportunity, and I wanted to take it. So, we did.

We were so happy when we managed to fool the guards into taking us to the mall. When we got there, that’s when we gave them the slip. We didn’t realize my father’s enemies had been watching and lying in wait for such an opportunity.

When they took us, they didn’t want ransom. They wanted revenge. I’ve learned that when people want revenge, there’s nothing you can offer them that can satisfy that thirst for vengeance.

And they took their revenge. They tortured us for a week before they decided they’d kill me and sell Gabrielle to some traffickers.

My sister saved me. I can still feel that gun pressed to my head. You never forget such a thing. Cool metal on my skin.

To this day, I don’t know how Gabrielle got to me and took the gun from the man who would have killed me. She shot him.

And that one thing led to her death.

They killed her right in front of me, making me watch every second of her suffering.

When my father and his men eventually found me, I was as dead inside as she was. But at least I was alive. I still had my life, if only for myself. I assumed my sister’s identity that same night. Papa insisted on it, then he killed anyone who knew, so he could protect his investment with the Bellandis.

That became our family secret. The family lie. We buried Gabrielle, but to the world, it was me who lay in that grave.

What will Papa do this time?

I blink and push the memory from my mind, steadying my breathing again, then I risk turning my head slightly so I can steal a glance at the brother.

Shit. He’s already looking at me, and I can’t look away.

I meet cold blue eyes. The same as Lev’s.

I think this guy has an edge about him, though, that’s scarier. That’s saying something given the fact that Lev makes my soul want to flee.

I snap my gaze back to the window. Better to look outside. It’s safer.

Another half an hour passes. We turn onto a road where the trees lining either side become denser. There are a lot of woodlands in the Westchester area, so I assume we must be somewhere around there. Perhaps Bedford.

A sign comes into view moments later, confirming my thoughts. It occurs to me then that these men know that I know where we’re going. They didn’t try to conceal it from me. I don’t know if that’s something I should worry about. Then again, I have bigger problems.

Ten more minutes pass until we pull up to a set of huge wrought-iron gates, which open for us. The car drives through and glides down an endless driveway.

Against the moonlight, a sprawling country estate comes into view. For a moment, I’m stuck looking at the beauty of the building and I wonder how much better it must look during the daytime.

I expected something of a fortress with gargoyles perched on the gables of the roof. But this place looks like a normal person lives here. Maybe that’s part of the façade. Our home certainly looks normal, yet my father is one of the evilest men I’ve ever met in my life.

The car rolls to a stop in front of a set of wide stone steps. The brother gets out first and opens the door for me. It crosses my mind to wait right here, but I think better of it.

I get out and stare at him. As much as I don’t want to speak, I need answers. I can’t just follow him like a mindless puppet.

“Where am I?” I lift my chin and try to continue the façade that I’m calm. He knows different, though. The menacing smile he shoots my way tells me he does know, and the asshole is probably getting off on it.

“This way.” He waves me forward.

“Tell me where I am.” Wow, that’s either my nerves speaking or my freakout mode taking over.

“I said this way.” He makes a point of jabbing a finger toward the large oak doors of the house.

“When can I speak to my father?”

The smile recedes from his face, and a darkness that tightens my stomach invades his eyes. “Chert by eto pobral,” he seethes in thick Russian. I have no idea what he said. But I’m aware whatever it was can’t be good. “Listen to me, girly.” He leans close, pulls back his jacket, and flashes his gun. The sight sends a tremor through me. “Don’t make me blow your pretty little head off. I will if I’m pushed.”