Collared by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 11)

by Hayley Faiman

“This means you do not have my money as well, Zakhar. None of it. You are officially cut off, from me today, and from the will. You may think you can afford to be an enemy of Sergei Orlov, but I know that I cannot. Do not let this get out of hand, I cannot save you.”

  The man stands with a sigh, his eyes shifting down to me, then back up to Zakhar. “There are plenty of equally beautiful slaves in this world. Do not give up your life for something that is easily replaceable.” I flinch slightly at his words, although they are true, they still sting a bit to hear.

  Zakhar doesn’t respond to his grandfather, instead, he turns us around and drags me toward the door.

  “Oh grandson,” the man calls. Zakhar halts and twists his head slightly. “He will kill you. He will not care who you are, who I am, or what your name is. You will die the second that sweet thing crosses the threshold. My suggestion, for what it’s worth. You’ve played with your toy for ten years. Give your used plaything to someone else for a while. What the fuck does it hurt?”

  Nothing else is said. The man leaves, and I expect Zakhar to drag me into the basement, but he doesn’t. He stays still, so still that I’m frightened as to what he could be thinking up in that twisted as shit head of his.

  “You know, he’s not wrong,” Evgen announces.

  “About Raisa being all used up?”

  Evgen grunts in response before he speaks. “We’ve all played with her, more times than we can count. So have all of your friends. Wouldn’t it be kind of funny to let Sergei just keep her. She’s going to be completely useless soon, and you fucked her one last time tonight. Let Sergei have the sloppy cunt,” he mutters.

  I try not to be affected by his words, but I am. Every single one of them hurts. But nothing hurts as much as the feeling that I have, the way I already think of myself, and hearing it being voiced. That I am not good enough for Sergei. That I am too used up for him, that I am not worthy of him.

  I love him.

  He deserves better than me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  SERGEI

  “They just pulled around the back. They’re driving up the servant’s entrance. We let Ilya Deripaska inside to distract Shvernik. He hasn’t left yet,” my guard says into the phone.

  “Pull into the front entrance,” I instruct Vladimir.

  I’m glad he’s driving, to be completely honest, my nerves are fucking shot. I am nervous, and for the first time in far too many years to count, I’m fucking scared. I can’t lose Raisa, not now, not ever. Vladimir doesn’t say anything as he parks in front of the home. We both slip out of the car and automatically reach for our weapons.

  “Sergei,” he calls out. I stop and turn around to face him. “I don’t know where he’s been hiding this whole time, and I’m fucking sorry that this shit has happened.”

  The apology is not necessary, and I’m sure it’s supposed to console me in some way. It doesn’t. What it does is piss me off further. It’s not his fault. He stayed in contact with Nikolai, but I chose to ignore everything.

  Ignoring his apology, I jog toward the house, holding my gun loosely at my side. “Enough, Vladimir. When this is done, then we won’t speak of it ever again,” I grumble.

  “Yes, boss,” he mutters.

  There are a couple of kryshas at the front door. They lift their chins and step to the side when they see us approach. “Nobody has left the premises. We have eyes on the side servant’s entrance, they have not exited through there. They should still be in the kitchen,” he rasps his voice rough.

  Lifting my chin, I walk past him and into the home. It’s dark, too quiet, and too fucking still. “Kitchen,” Vladimir whispers from my left.

  Together, we walk toward the kitchen. There are voices, they grow louder with each step closer we take. I have no plan as I walk through the door. All I want is to end the life of this abusive fucker and take my woman home.

  Lifting my hand, I point the barrel of my gun toward Zakhar’s small head. “Want to release my property?” I ask coolly.

  His head turns away from the man sitting at the table and faces me. I watch as his lips turn up into a smirk. “Well, hello Orlov,” he chuckles.

  It takes everything inside of me not to look down at Raisa. She’s at Zakhar’s feet, and his hand is tangled in her hair. I decide immediately, that I’m going to cut that fucking hand off before this night is done. “Pass her over, Zakhar,” I grunt.

  Zakhar laughs. “Why would you think that this shit would go down so easily?” he asks.

  “The way I see it, you’ve got nothing. Your grandfather has cut you off, your home is surrounded by my men, and your only man is attempting to sneak out the back door and leave you high and dry,” I shrug.

  Zakhar snorts, his confidence beyond cocky. “The way I see it, Sergei. I have everything,” he sneers, picking Raisa up until she’s standing next to him.

  I chance glancing at her face and barely hold back a wince. She looks defeated, deflated, and lost. I hate that she looks almost exactly like the wild woman I rescued from Katrina’s club. “You can have her back, Sergei. How much are you willing to give me for this used up slave of yours?” he asks.

  Lifting a brow, I lower my weapon, and point it toward his chest. “You think I would pay for her? That’s not how this works. I haven’t paid for cunt ever in my life. She was given to me, she is my property,” I grind out.

  Zakhar pulls her naked body in front of his like a shield. I hear Vladimir moving around behind me, but I don’t dare turn away from Raisa. I refuse to take my eyes off of her or Zakhar.

  “You know, Orlov. I tried to talk sense into him, but he’s refused,” Ilya shrugs from his place at the small kitchen table.

  I chuckle at Ilya’s words. I’m sure he tried to talk sense into him, whatever sense that would keep him in his room at Katrina’s club.

  “Go, Ilya. I expect this to stay silent, otherwise, our deal will not stand. The room will be revoked, amongst other things,” I say.

  The chair squeaks against the tile flooring as he stands. Wordlessly, he walks out of the room. My guards will ensure that he is escorted off of the premises. If I so much as hear murmurings of him talking about tonight, about Zakhar, or Raisa he will follow in his grandson’s demise.

  “Grandfather is a pussy anyway,” Zakhar shrugs as the man leaves.

  “Vladimir, do tell. What was Evgen doing attempting to escape?” I ask, ignoring Zakhar.

  Vlad drags a heavy breathing Evgen toward me and forces him to his knees, a position I would die before taking myself, then again, I am not a piece of steaming shit like Evgen. “He likes to talk between his tears,” Vlad announces.

  “Oh?” I ask.

  Zakhar growls, he makes a sudden move and my eyes flick back to him. Quickly, he starts to head toward the basement door. Raisa holds onto his wrist and emits an earth-shattering scream. Her feet going flat on the floor and spreading wide as if she’s trying to gain some traction. She’s thrashing around and I’m proud of her for fighting him, but I can’t get a good clean shot of the fucker.

  I watch, feeling helpless and agitated as the door to the basement opens and then as if it all happens in slow motion, I take in Zakhar flinging Raisa through the basement door. I hear her cries as thudding sounds echo throughout the kitchen with each step she tumbles down.

  When the noises stop, the room is bathed in silence. Zakhar’s laughter is the sound that breaks the silence around us. Without a thought or a goddamn care, I pull the trigger of my gun. The sound is loud as it fires. I watch, happily, when his mouth falls open in shock.

  The bullet makes a small mark in the center of his forehead but creates a goddamn disaster on the wall behind him. His eyes are wide, and he stands there for a beat then falls into a heap on the floor. Evgen, being the pussy he is, screams out in a high pitched wail. Then the room suddenly fills with my men.

  I’m frozen in my spot, my eyes no longer on Zakhar but instead on the dark basement entry. Raisa is down there, and through the
chaos surrounding me, I don’t hear her voice.

  “Lusha is in the trunk of the car,” Vladimir says from somewhere in the distance.

  I lift my hand, motioning toward the entry door, giving him full permission to get Lusha. I could give a fuck about her right now. The only one I care about is probably dead.

  Slowly, I make my way toward the basement’s entrance. Reaching past the doorframe, I find the light switch and flip it on. Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath, before releasing it. When I open my eyes, I see her. She’s naked, sprawled out, her arm at an unnatural angle, her eyes closed, and she looks hauntingly beautiful.

  “Get a doctor,” I say.

  There is movement around me, but nobody confirms they’re doing what I’ve ordered. Turning my head, I clear my throat and yell. “Get me a goddamn fucking doctor.”

  The room goes silent and then the Boyevik from the entrance lifts his chin. “He’s on his way, boss. Called him when I heard her scream,” he offers.

  I’m scared. I’m fucking scared. Standing here looking down at Raisa, I can’t move. I’ve never been frozen in fear before. The expression I’ve heard, yet never understood until this exact moment. I hate it, and I hate myself for being such a goddamn pussy, I’m a cunt. I don’t deserve her. This man, frozen, scared and fucking weak, does not deserve her.

  “Sergei,” Vladimir’s voice snaps.

  Turning my head, I look over to him. He lifts his chin. “Go to her, brother,” he urges.

  Something about the compassion and the dominance in his voice unsticks my frozen feet and I rush down the staircase. I don’t look at the playroom nightmare I enter when I finally reach the base of the stairs. I don’t look anywhere but at Raisa.

  Crouching down next to her body, I lift my hand and brush the hair out of her face. “I’m here, krasotka. I’m right here,” I rasp.

  “Sergei,” she whimpers.

  Her eyelids flutter open and she winces as she looks up at me. “Sshh,” I say gently. “Nothing will happen to you now, not ever again, he’s gone.”

  She nods, her big blue eyes looking up at me. I see the wildness from earlier has left them and she looks pained and sad. I want to wipe the look off of her face, kiss her, and demand that she be okay. Instead of doing that, I just stare into her eyes, cupping her cheek and doing something that I haven’t even contemplated doing since I was a young boy.

  I pray.

  RAISA

  Sergei is a sight for sore eyes. He looks exhausted and sick. I want to hold him, but my arm won’t move. It hurts to even attempt to move any part of me. So, I lie still and watch him, taking in every part of him. He clears his throat, lowering himself and resting his knees on the dirty cement floor.

  I suck in a breath. A Bratva man never puts his starred knees on the ground, not for anyone. He smirks, bending even more, and places his forehead against my own, closing his eyes before he whispers.

  “On my knees for you, my krasotka. I’ve never been on my knees before, not since I received my stars. For you, Raisa, I would do anything. Even pray to a god I’m not sure exists for me. I need you to be okay. I’m fucking selfish and I need you,” he murmurs.

  Tears well in my eyes and I wish that I could move my arms, hold him, and tell him that I am going to be perfectly fine. I can’t say or do any of that though. The tears building fall down my cheeks as I stare into his blue eyes, wishing that I could change this moment. Wishing that I were stronger for him, that he didn’t have to compromise who he is by placing his knees on this godforsaken concrete ground.

  “You will be all right, Raisa. I demand it,” he growls.

  My lips turn up into a smirk. “You are so controlling,” I exhale. “I missed you.”

  His eyes close slowly before they reopen. I watch the pain as it slices across his handsome face. “I made a mistake. I should have kept better security on you, and I should have been in contact with you. I fucked up,” he admits.

  I’m surprised, but I shouldn’t be, Sergei does love to surprise me so. He’s much more vulnerable and willing to apologize than I think anyone realizes. My smirk turns into as wide of a smile as I can muster for him.

  “I will be okay, Sergei. I’m just going to close my eyes and rest a moment, okay?” I sigh.

  His fingers wrap around my shoulders and he gives me a light shake, but my eyes close anyway. I need to rest. I’m so tired, my scalp and body ache, deeply so. Just a few minutes of closing my eyes will help me, I know it.

  SERGEI

  Raisa closing her eyes, and me being unable to wake her back up is not a good thing, I know it. However, I don’t know how to keep her awake or rouse her again. Luckily, it doesn’t matter, the doctor appears only seconds later. I tell him what happened, and he nods as he takes his stethoscope out and begins moving it all over her body as he listens.

  “Her arm is most definitely damaged in some way. We can’t call an ambulance, so I’m going to secure her neck and we will carry her upstairs,” he murmurs.

  I let out a curse and turn my head to the side to suck in a breath when something catches my eyes. It’s a wall lined with cages. My heart aches at the sight of them. They are equipped with five chains, one for each limb and then neck, and a drain in the center. There is also a metal bucket in the corner of every cage.

  “Sergei, are you ready?” the doctor asks.

  Shifting my gaze back to Raisa, I notice her collar is on the ground next to the doctor’s feet and a neck brace has replaced it. The sight of the collar on the ground doesn’t bother me, in fact, it’s where it belongs. That big bulky, ugly collar was never meant for her, anyway.

  “Yes, where are we taking her?” I ask, moving down to her lower half, and slipping my arms beneath her body.

  He clears his throat. “I brought my van, it’s at the kitchen exit. Lusha has already been placed inside for an examination. There is a gurney there and we can get Raisa all strapped down for a safer ride to my office,” he explains.

  I lift my chin and we count to three before we pick her up and slowly carry her up the stairs. She doesn’t make a sound, I wish she would. I wish she would whimper, cry, scream or call me a fucking bastard. Whatever, I just wish she would do something. She stays silent though. Her body ghostly pale as the doctor straps her down on the gurney.

  “Boss?” Vladimir calls. Turning around, I look back to him. “Evgen?” he asks.

  The man in question is still on his knees in the kitchen, his boss dead just a few feet away. He didn’t suffer as much as I wanted him to, in fact, he didn’t suffer at all and that fucking pisses me off.

  “Burn him alive with his boss. The basement seems fitting. Keep the flame contained, I think this house would make a good Bratva home for a Pakhan if he wants it,” I shrug.

  Evgen cries, tears flowing down his cheeks, making puddles on the floor. Holy fuck he’s a pussy. I shake my head, leaving my men to do their job. They will do it, impeccably so. I already know this about them. Climbing into the back of the van, I slam the doors closed and sink down to my ass, resting my back and my head against the wall.

  “Thank you, Mr. Orlov,” a soft voice offers.

  Cracking an eye open, I look to the side. There wrapped in a sheet is Lusha. She looks dirty, beaten, and thin. She looks nothing like the woman I know her to be. I think about calling Katrina right away, but something in her eyes tells me that she wouldn’t want that.

  “Thank you for what?” I bark harshly.

  Her body stiffens for a moment before she relaxes. “Katrina messed up. She shouldn’t have taken her. She was trying to help. Thank you for saving me, I heard about the deal you wagered, trying to buy some time. I know you were trying to help. Zakhar wasn’t going to accept it though, he wanted me and Raisa. He wanted to build his slaves back up, he’d… he’d killed them all in a panic after she’d been taken.” Her last words are nothing, but a whisper and it sends a chill down my spine.

  I think of all the innocent women that died at the hands of that
monster, and because I coveted Raisa. Because I fell in love with her and couldn’t even fathom giving her up. I curse myself. I wasn’t thinking for the greater good, as I usually do.

  When I deal with decisions for the Bratva, I think about what is best for the organization. I didn’t do that this time. I didn’t think about what would be best for the other women. I only thought about what was best for me. I was falling in love and throwing caution to the goddamn wind.

  The van comes to a stop and a few moments later the doors swing open. There standing on the other side is the doctor and a couple of his crew. Without a word to me, they take Raisa out of the van and rush her off. I help Lusha down and hold her to my side and I assist her in walking into the building behind them.

  “You are such a good man, Sergei. I am so glad that you have found someone. I know Katrina is over the moon about her match,” she whispers next to me.

  “Would you like me to call her now?” I ask, ignoring her comment about Katrina playing matchmaker.

  Lusha’s big brown eyes look up at me and she shakes her head once, then nods. “I don’t know. I am so damaged,” she breathes.

  I snort. “Nonsense. Katrina loves you, Lusha. She has been very worried. She will be glad you’re simply breathing. The rest, it will just take time,” I smile.

  Guiding Lusha toward the only other room in the building I help her onto the hospital bed. I decide to call Katrina. Lusha looks completely horrified as I talk to her, but I can hear the relief in Katrina’s voice. “How is Raisa?” she asks.

  I clear my throat. “I do not know yet. Come down to the doc’s office, yeah?”

  “Yes, Sergei. I will be there as soon as possible,” she says softly before ending the call.

  Standing, I leave Lusha alone with her thoughts, as I need to be alone with my own. I pace as I think about the events of this evening. Here I am again, waiting on a doctor to tell me if a woman I love is going to live or die—for the second time in two weeks.