Demyan & Ana: A Russian Guns Novella (The Russian Guns Book 4)

by Bethany-Kris

  Ana didn’t want them to.

  “I’m sorry,” Ana said, holding back tears. “Please let me leave.”

  Anton, seeming stunned, stepped aside silently to let her pass.

  Her father would never hurt her. Even when she was a bratty little child, he never once put his hands on her in anger. He loved her.

  Ana was, and always had been, his princess. She did no wrong in her father’s eyes.

  How would he feel about her if he found out what happened?

  • • •

  “Thank you for meeting me,” Ana said, trying to smile but failing.

  Koldan sipped on a to-go cup of coffee, shrugging under the weight of his leather jacket. “Wasn’t doing much, anyway.”

  “Liar. When I called, there was so much noise in the background, I couldn’t hear you.”

  “Doesn’t mean it was important to me, so it’s better for me to move on to what is,” he replied like it didn’t make a difference.

  Ana didn’t miss his unspoken words.

  Other things weren’t important to him. She was.

  Koldan tipped his head in the direction of her coffee. “Drink before it goes cold, krasivyy.”

  Ana’s hands were warmed by the coffee. The late October air chilled every other part of her. They could have stayed inside the coffee shop after they purchased their drinks, but the amount of people inside sent Ana’s anxiety swimming thick.

  Did they know when they looked at her?

  Could they see her invisible damage?

  Because sure, the bruises were gone and the ache had left, but inside … she was broken.

  “Hey,” Koldan murmured, gazing at her with an intensity that seemed to dig right down into her soul. “I lost you there for a second.”

  Ana barked out a laugh. Pulling her legs up to rest her feet on the bench under her backside, she placed the cup to the side and sighed. “You’re not the only one.”

  “What’s going on, Ana? Talk to me. You call me in a panic, ask me to meet up with you, and then stare dazed at your hands. I’m fine with doing that, too. Watching you watch nothing, I mean. If that’s what you need, cool shit, but I don’t think it is. Come on, just talk.”

  Sucking in another gulp of air, Ana explained her earlier close call with her parents. Koldan stayed silent through her tale, worry and sadness dancing in his gaze while his shoulders grew tense.

  “They’re going to pick up on your depression, Ana,” he said when she finished. “They’re your parents and they love you. They raised you, so trust that they know when something’s not right with their kid.”

  Ana blinked, confused. “I’m not … depressed.”

  Koldan cleared his throat, setting his own coffee down and resting his clasped hands between his knees. “Depression is more than suicide, you know. Most people, that’s the only thing they consider when depression gets tossed out there. It’s way more than that. Sometimes you just don’t want to talk, move, or even think. You hurt, physically and emotionally. You’re drained—exhausted. Irritability walks hand in hand with your sadness. For no reason other than the fact you couldn’t be anything else, you’re stuck in a cloudy haze that won’t clear.”

  “Depression,” Ana echoed.

  “You’re still raw,” he continued. “It’s only been a week, but it’s not going to get better if you keep putting on a brave face while the fears eat away at you on the inside. What you need is support and professional care, Ana, or it’s only going to get worse. You should tell your parents so they can help you.”

  Horror squeezed Ana’s throat like a noose. “I can’t.”

  “Listen, no one is saying you have to name a name though I really wish you would. What I’m trying to get you to understand is even admitting to them an attack happened might be beneficial in more ways than you know. Therapy or—”

  “I can’t tell them.” Ana’s rebuttal came out fierce as she stood from the bench to end the conversation and leave. He followed suit but kept a safe distance between them. Ana was grateful.

  “Don’t run away from me right now,” Koldan said, looking as though he wanted to reach out to her. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “I know.”

  She did, really, but it was still hard.

  “Why won’t you tell your parents so they can love and care for you?”

  “Because, I am not that kind of girl,” Ana whispered, finally letting the tears escape. “They didn’t raise me jump into bed with whoever caught my eye. I don’t want them thinking I somehow put myself into a position where the attack happened because of my stupidity.”

  “They wouldn’t,” Koldan said, something unknown darkening his voice. “There’s a huge difference between being disappointed because a parent believes their daughter doesn’t respect her body and victim-blaming her for an attack that wasn’t her fault. This shit right here—” Koldan waved at her. “—is victim-blaming at its best. And you’re the fucking victim! A woman doesn’t ask to be raped, Ana. It doesn’t matter if she’s walking down a dark alley naked and drunk off her ass, she’s not giving permission for a man to rape her. Don’t you get that?”

  “I—”

  “No, hear me right now. This wasn’t your fault. Say it.”

  Ana’s throat closed, keeping her silent.

  “Say it,” Koldan demanded. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” she repeated above a breath.

  Ana wiped the wetness from her face with the sleeves of her sweater. Koldan took a hesitant step forward with his arms open. She let him swallow her in the embrace.

  “Thank you,” Ana said.

  “Shit, no. Don’t thank me for that. It had to get out there, you know?”

  “It’s just hard because he took a really important choice away from me. I’d never—” Ana clamped her mouth shut, refusing to admit what almost spilled out. Apparently, what she had said was enough.

  Koldan stilled. “Never had sex.”

  “No. I did other things, but never that. He took it away from me. It’s like I’m … damaged goods or something. I know it’s not true, but that’s how I feel right now.”

  “Christ.” Koldan sighed as he tried to make Ana look at him again. When she wouldn’t, his gentle hands held her chin up so she couldn’t look away. “I get what you’re trying to say, but I don’t agree. Virginity is more than breaking a hymen. A woman is worth more than her hymen, for that matter. I don’t know what else to say so you understand who you are is far more than this one moment and what happened, Ana. It will get better, it doesn’t define you and you’re not ruined.”

  Ana smiled honestly for the first time in a week. “What are you, some kind of male feminist?”

  “No, I’m just a man.” Koldan shrugged and added, “According to my father, a little free-spirited and intense, but a good one.”

  “I agree with him.”

  “Yeah, don’t ever tell him that. He’ll never let you live it down.”

  Ana snorted. “Okay.”

  “And, please consider telling your parents.”

  “I will.”

  Feeling better than she had all week, Ana stayed silent and comfortable in Koldan’s hug. When she looked over his shoulder to stare down the quiet street, her blood froze in her veins. A quiet whimper lodged in her throat.

  Cavan.

  He was making his way out of a specialty shop and didn’t seem to notice her.

  It didn’t make a fucking difference. She noticed him. And Koldan took notice of her immediate fear.

  “Ana?”

  She couldn’t answer him. She couldn’t even breathe.

  Koldan turned to look and she knew what he was seeing. The only guy walking down the sidewalk toward a black SUV.

  “Please tell me that’s not him,” Koldan said so low she strained to hear. Ana trembled, refusing to say a single word. “Do you know who he is?”

  “C-cavan Dolan,” Ana mumbled.

  “Yeah, the nephew and only
heir to Liam Dolan, Ana.”

  “W-what … who?”

  “The Irish mob boss Liam Dolan from Detroit. That’s his nephew.”

  And her rapist.

  Oh, God.

  Chapter Seven

  Demyan

  “How the fuck do you know Cavan Dolan, huh? I didn’t realize the Avdonins were doing business with the Irish mob! Do you realize how thick they are into human-trafficking? Adrik won’t want any part of that shit, Demyan!”

  Demyan stopped his trek to his car, unsure. Koldan’s anger spilled into the phone like hot lava. “We’re not.”

  “Oh? Funny, because—”

  “No, shut the hell up,” Demyan barked. “We’re not involved with the Irish mob, Koldan. At all. We don’t play with other organizations or families. Anton hasn’t mixed business with anyone but Adrik since the mess with my mother’s family. Remember who you’re fucking talking to here, man.”

  Koldan all but snarled on the other end of the phone. “Cavan—”

  “Showed up at my birthday party months ago. I didn’t know who he was at first. I let that Irish bastard know to stay away from my family. We don’t want any part of them around. We’re not in the mood for friends.”

  “You really need to stop interrupting me.”

  “You need to learn some fucking respect!”

  “Koldan?”

  Ana’s soft, scared voice on the other end of the call made Demyan squeeze his eyes closed. He wasn’t entirely impressed by whatever his sister had going on with Adrik’s son, but he kept his opinion to himself. Especially considering Koldan seemed to help and like his sister a lot.

  Ana stayed at Demyan’s place all week, so he had more than enough chances to see the two in action with one another. Ana talked when she wouldn’t to anyone else. Koldan listened. Sometimes the guy dropped by just to check up on her. She needed that more than she realized.

  So yeah, Demyan kept his fucking mouth shut.

  “What are you doing with Ana? You’re supposed to be supervising those idiots down at the docks.”

  “None of your business,” Koldan snapped.

  “We both know it is,” Demyan retorted hotly.

  “Talking, asshole. Can I speak without you cutting in on me, now?”

  “Whatever. I suggest you tread lightly.”

  “Where are you?” Koldan asked.

  “Just got done my last class and was going home for a quick shower before I head down to meet up with you. Or, that’s what I was doing. I don’t know what you’re doing, now, so I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Why?”

  “Cavan was it, man. Ana’s attack—he’s the one.”

  “Koldan, you promised!” Ana cried.

  “I lied,” he told her. “Please don’t ask me to apologize for it, either, Ana.”

  Demyan blew out a harsh breath. “You’re sure?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Koldan confirmed quietly. “Very.”

  Another thought passed through Demyan’s mind. “Was he the guy she talked about seeing the last couple months?”

  “Yep.”

  “Meet me at my apartment in thirty.”

  “Already on our way. It’s not going to take you thirty minutes to drive here. What the hell?”

  Demyan unlocked his car, tossed his bag inside before slamming it shut and locking it again. “I need to have a chat with Freddie.”

  “All right. In thirty, then.”

  Demyan ended the conversation without another word. A simple text to Freddie gave Demyan the guy’s location on campus. Demyan jogged the fifteen-minute journey to find him. When he did, he grabbed Freddie by his jacket and shoved him roughly into the closest wall before the guy had a chance to react.

  Freddie’s hands flew up in surrender. “Whoa, Demyan. What the fuck, man?”

  “Cavan Dolan, Freddie. That’s what. Why was he messing around with my sister?”

  Freddie didn’t look like he had the first clue what Demyan was talking about. “The guy likes his females, so if he picked up Ana, I—”

  Demyan slammed Freddie into the wall again, shutting him up. “He was seeing her for a good while after I warned him to stay away. Why?”

  “I don’t know. Would you let me go? You’re freaking me out.”

  “Not until I’m done here. Did he know you were involved with me months ago when you brought him to my parents’ home?”

  “No, not until that day. What’s wrong, Demyan?”

  “How many other girls has he raped when they didn’t give him what he wanted?”

  Freddie’s tense body slumped against the wall. “He raped Ana?”

  “How many, Freddie?”

  “I heard rumors about Detroit, but … I thought that’s just what they were.”

  “Where does he live?”

  Freddie rattled off an address.

  Demyan let him go, taking a step back to fix his jacket. “We didn’t have this goddamn conversation. Got it?”

  “Yeah, man. I got it.”

  • • •

  Demyan spun the tip of the knife on the pad of his thumb. A tiny drop of blood gathered at and he wiped it away on the arm of his jacket. Coldness settled in his gut while rage burned white-hot through the rest of his body.

  Silence stilled his mind.

  Tilting his head back against the wall, Demyan overlooked the view the tall glass windows of Cavan Dolan’s loft offered. The windowsill bench had been Demyan’s seat for three hours. Minimal movement, no thoughts, and his soundlessness kept him in control.

  Keys jingled at the lock on the loft door twenty feet across the room. Demyan didn’t leave his spot or look away from the windows when the door opened. The darkness of the loft would do nothing to hide his silhouette sitting on the sill, though.

  And he wanted Cavan to be afraid.

  So terrified. Helpless like he made Ana. Without a choice or voice. Overpowered. Forced into pain and confusion.

  The only difference between the two would come down to worth. Ana’s was far more than Cavan Dolan’s. Demyan would make damn sure the man knew it by the time he was done. Cavan would bleed, beg, and cry.

  The door closed with a soft click. Demyan listened as feet shuffled and two thumps hit the wall. Shoes, likely. A light turned on, illuminating the apartment. Demyan still didn’t turn from his position when he heard Cavan stumble and ask, “What the fuck?”

  “I thought I made myself clear, Cavan,” Demyan said coolly.

  “How in the hell did you get in my—”

  “Deadbolts on doors are useless when a fire escape leads straight to an unlocked window. Not that it would have made a difference, mind you. I was getting in, one way or the other.”

  Cavan sucked in a hard breath. “Get the fuck out, Demyan.”

  “No, see, I can’t do that. Not after what you did to my sister.”

  “Oh, I think you can.”

  A gun clicked, the hammer drawing back. Demyan barked a bitter laugh, turning to stare straight at Cavan holding a handgun. “That’s pointless.”

  “Really? Because right now, I’m the only one holding a weapon worth using.”

  “Wrong,” Koldan said, stepping out from the shadows of the small hallway. His own gun was cocked and loaded, pointing at Cavan with no shake. A silencer was attached to the end. “Toss it to the couch, now.”

  Cavan’s gaze narrowed in Demyan’s direction. “Couldn’t do this alone?”

  “I could, but I figured I owed him since he’s looking out for her and all.”

  “Toss the goddamn gun,” Koldan ordered.

  Cavan’s handgun flew to the couch cushion, forgotten.

  “Don’t bother jumping for any other weapons, either,” Koldan added. “We cleared them out hours ago.”

  “You’re not going to get away with this, Demyan. My family—”

  “Means shit to me.” Demyan swiveled his form around on the windowsill before dropping both feet to the floor. He stood, his stare never leaving Cavan. “In our world, we
have a lot of rules. We stay in our own territories. We keep the peace between rival families. We do our business and stay out of others. But, most of all, we hand out respect. Not that any other girl you’ve attacked is worth any less than my sister, but Ana’s got some clout behind her, Cavan. She’s an Avdonin—a Bratva princess. You knew better. You knew this was coming.”

  “She wanted it,” Cavan said, nearly smirking.

  Anger flared in Demyan, but he beat back the urge to show it.

  Cavan didn’t relent. “Teased me for weeks like a good little whore, so what she got was exactly what she deserved after her show with your friend here.”

  Koldan took a step forward, his hand tightening around the butt of his handgun. “You cocksucking—”

  “Don’t,” Demyan stated, flicking Koldan a look. “He’s only running his mouth to shorten his time. The more he pisses me off, the quicker he thinks he’s going to die. Isn’t that right, Cavan?”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t make what I said about your bitch of a sister any less true.”

  Demyan’s jaw clenched, his teeth aching. “You know, I considered telling my father what you did to Ana so he could come along tonight. Anton Avdonin is pretty damn infamous in the business of killing. Liars have their tongues removed. Thieves lose their hands. Traitors get their bones crushed. I’ve witnessed men beg for someone else to do the deed when he walks into the room.”

  “Your point?” Cavan asked.

  “I’ve never seen what he does to a rapist, let alone his daughter’s. I think it would have been fascinating and terrifying all at once.”

  “Am I supposed to feel lucky it’s you, then?”

  This time, it was Demyan’s turn to smirk. “Oh, no. See, I’m my father’s son through and through. We bleed the same blood. He made me. I’ve picked up his tricks over the years. This will be far from easy for you, that I can guarantee.”

  “And you needed a lackey, why?” Cavan asked, tilting his head in Koldan’s direction.

  “He’s just here for the show.”

  Demyan didn’t blink when Cavan lurched forward to grab the gun he threw away earlier. A muffled pop filled the space before Cavan fell to the floor, holding his hand to his chest and shouting obscenities. Blood seeped from the new bullet wound he sported.