Page 37 of Kept By the Bratva

And praying I would see him again.

Nik. Please, please be safe.

It couldn’t be right to be gone this long. Something bad had to have happened.

If Mila was right about this family business, about the Bratva looking after its own, I hoped he was safe and would be returning to me come morning.

Because despite the practice with being apart from him, I wasn’t getting any better at overcoming the hole in my heart at the fear of losing him completely.

15

NIKOLAI

They drove us to a building I’d never been in before, but it seemed small with how prosperous the Cartel had become. We all visited on official business—or to attack like we had at the warehouse where we’d taken their women. But this location wasn’t familiar.

I knew what its purpose was, though. This was somewhere they brought enemies to torture and kill. Dmitri and I were the only ones down here in this simple concrete room. We were roughly shoved down to sit in hard, stiff chairs, and the impact sent reverberating shockwaves of pain through my body.

Others had been here before. Their blood still stained the walls. Vomit, shit, and piss stank from every corner, and I had no doubt countless people had lost control of their bodies from the stark terror and fear they’d felt as they were tortured to the last slight inch of their lives.

They’d do the same to us now. There was no question in my mind that Dmitri and I had been kept alive for a purpose. Torture would be commencing soon, but I would never fucking break.

Dmitri caught my attention, making eye contact after they’d removed the hoods over our heads. I blinked, acknowledging my brother before facing forward. Our silent communication was all that we needed to know we were on the same page. We wouldn’t cave, no matter how badly they beat us.

Duty. Came. First.

They didn’t keep us waiting for long. Once they bound our hands behind our backs, over the stiff chair backs that forced us to keep our shoulders spread apart awkwardly, they came at us.

I grunted and tensed for every hit. I couldn’t deflect anything. They’d taken our guns and knives, and with four men taking turns to punch, kick, and hit us with batons, they whaled on us with no mercy. Nothing was off limits, but I did manage to keep my legs together, straining in my thighs, to protect my crotch. The batons didn’t strike me there. Everywhere else was fair game. My face bled from the strikes and punches. My gut ached from the kicks. Each time I heard Dmitri grunting and breathing hard from the same treatment, my anger rose to a fever pitch. Listening to my brother get beaten did something to me. Defensive and furious, I fought the ropes at my hands and desperately waited to get free and kill them all for hurting someone in my family.

What felt like hours of agony and pain were likely only minutes. They’d only begun, it seemed, before others entered the room and called them off in Spanish.

“Stop. Stop right now!”

Whoever this slick-looking fucker was, he had to be in charge of the grunt guys who’d taken their time to beat us. Immediately, they backed up, obeying their superior.

Two more men filed in, and they both sported the same fancier attire of suits. These were higher ranking men, and I swore I recognized one as a cell leader.

“The Valkovs think to trespass and steal from us, eh?” the shorter, bald one taunted. He shook his head. “Eh, you motherfucking Valkov? Answer me.”

Dmitri and I remained silent, breathing hard. I stared at the Ortez asshole through the less swollen eye they hadn’t punched hard enough. In reply, I spat out a mouthful of blood, then licked my dry lips.

“I hope you see with your business burning to the ground what happens when you fuck around with the Ortez operations.”

Still, we said nothing. We were trained in how to tolerate and survive torture and interrogations.

“Likewise,” I said. “You attacked our club first.” That wasn’t giving them any information they didn’t already know.

“You think I give a fuck?” He snarled, picking up a baton and rushing to bring it to me. The weapon wasn’t raised. He didn’t strike. Fuming and frustrated, he gritted his teeth and shook his head at us.

“This isn’t some little tit-for-tat bullshit,” he warned. “You went too far!”

By taking one shipment of women to be transported? I doubted it. They’d probably shifted their efforts elsewhere and already had another crew kidnapping women in another area of the city.

“This is more than just a business deal ruined,” he growled.

Dmitri cleared his throat. “Quit talking in riddles.”

I didn’t blame him for the attitude. If they’d kept us alive this far, they had a message for us. We were alive to bring news back to Alek. It was obvious. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have gone this easy on us. Knives, guns, and other instruments would have been used in this room where real torture occurred.