Page 5 of Mafia And Taken

“Have you ever sucked a cock?” he smirked. “Oh, angelic Cate, I know you haven’t, which will make it all the sweeter when you suck mine. After all, the Fratellanza keep all their daughters as pure virgins until their wedding day, to make it all the more satisfying to finally break them in, don’t they?”

I tried to swallow the terror balling in my throat, but I felt a tear betray me and slide down my face.

“Will your pussy get wet when your tongue wraps around my cock?” His harsh laugh echoed in the emptiness of the building. “I can’t wait to find out.”

He seized my arm and I couldn’t stop the scream from leaving my mouth.

He pushed me onto a hard chair, binding me to it with my arms tied behind me, the coarse rope cutting into my wrists and legs. I struggled to try and stop him, but I was no match for his strength.

“I like seeing you all tied up. No need to gag you though—there is no one to hear you and I want to hear all your screams.”

I looked up and saw my father being dragged down the same steps and taken off into what looked like a different room further along. He was still fighting, trying to get out of his restraints.

I could see the fear in my father’s eyes. Not much frightened him—he was a Made Man and was used to violence and death, but this was different. I didn’t know what the Bratva wanted with us, but it could be nothing good.

Dmitri walked away to the room my father was taken into. My head was pounding, probably due to the drug they had used on me, and I was so tired. I forced my eyelids to stay open—I needed to work out a way to escape from here.

My mind raced, trying to work out how to get away from these men but whatever way my mind turned, I could see no way out.

I was powerless in this situation, and I needed to figure a way out of here; eventually, however, my mind blurred with a fog of wooziness and exhaustion, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from closing.

***

The next time I woke, it was to the sound of a deep scream in the distance. I opened my eyes and held myself very still as I tried to figure out where the sound had come from.

Then I heard it again. It was my father. Terror crawled over every inch of my body–they were torturing him. But why? I tried to move, but I was firmly bound to the chair. My arms ached having been tied down for a long while by now. I wasn’t sure how long I had been there.

As I saw Dmitri approach me, I tried to sink back against my chair. Perhaps I should try to distract him from whatever he had in mind for me. “May I use the bathroom, please?” I wasn’t sure why I was being so polite to him, but it was my usual manner and I didn’t want him to refuse.

He looked at me for a minute without answering.

He took a knife and came back toward me, his gaze fixed on me. The look in his eyes said he wanted to do something to me, and that thought made me shudder.

He slowly cut the ropes open, freeing my body. My legs were shaky as I tried to stand up. His hand roughly gripped my arm, and he dragged me forward and up the stairs. The restrooms must be on the ground floor, I thought to myself.

As we climbed the stairs, I suddenly jerked to a stop as I heard loud bangs—gunshots.

Dmitri ran up the remaining steps to the ground floor, shouting over his shoulder, “Stay here!”

He didn’t try to tie me back up—I guess he thought that even untied there wasn’t much harm a girl like me could do to anyone.

The screaming had stopped from the next room. I didn’t know whether that was a good sign or not.

I wondered if I should try to escape. This might be my only chance while the Russians were distracted by the gunshots. I decided not to give myself time to think but to go with my gut.

I ran up the stairs and was almost at the top when the door burst open and one of the Russians appeared in front of me. He frowned as he saw me, but this was my chance now and I pushed past him.

My legs were still shaky and numb after being bound up for so long. He grabbed me but I tried to push his arm away.

Somehow, I lost my footing and felt myself fall back. My foot couldn’t find the step. I tried to grab the handrail—it was just out of my grasp.

There was nothing for me to hold on to and I felt myself falling down the hard concrete steps. As I tumbled down one stair after another, each was another harsh blow to my body, sending sharp pains searing through me.

But I didn’t care about the pain. All I could think was that my chance to escape was slipping through my fingers.

That was my last thought before my head hit the hard ground. There was a moment of intense pain, then everything went black.

CHAPTER 3