2

Alisa

I headed up to the private rooms, seething about my father's attitude toward me, but the moment I entered the private rooms and saw the evidence of what Irina was subjected to, my lungs seized. I couldn't breathe past the utter shock and horror of what she had suffered at my father's hands. Her husband's hands. All of them.

"Took you long enough," Irina whined.

I shuttered my face, locking down on showing any emotions.

My God... I approached her, amazed that my knees didn't buckle.

Her skin was littered in red, swelling scrapes. Most bled freely, no doubt from the ropes and whips they'd used on her. Semen was everywhere, dried and smeared on her flesh that still bore the deep-tissue bruises from the last time they'd taken turns on her.

Her hands and ankles were still leashed. Cuffed tight with wires, her limbs were locked in suspension.

They hadn't even bothered to release her.

My fingers trembled as I hurried to untwist the locks keeping her in the air. "Sorry." I hadn't delayed coming up here, truly. But if I'd known they'd left her hanging, literally, I would have run.

She snorted, gazing absently at the ceiling. One eye was puffy. The lids slitted over her eye as she waited. "No, you're not."

"That this happened to you? Yes, I am." I bet she'd once wished for a happily ever after just like I did. Daydreaming for the impossible wasn't supposed to hurt this badly.

"You mean that this happens to me?" She hissed, drawing in a hard breath as I freed one hand. With that wrist free, she jerked, lowering her arm to support herself with the other cuffs still on. "Because it will. Until I can fucking kill myself, this will be my life."

I swallowed hard, not in any position to scold her or even react to her harsh words. If I were in her position...

No. Not yet. I would be married off, but I couldn't count on it happening any time soon. My father wanted me slimmer so he wouldn't suffer the embarrassment of offering a fat wife to my betrothed. My father wanted me to work in the shipping office so he wouldn't have to train another who would better serve elsewhere as he tried to expand his power.

"I am sorry that this is how it is." I freed another hand, and she rested partly on the bed. The sheets were saturated with the blood that dripped from the wires bound at her wrists and ankles, but I bet the support of a solid surface had to help.

She hissed, twisting to her side the best she could.

Maybe not.

Bile rose again. This scene of her broken like this will haunt me for days.

"That this is how it is?" She scowled at me.

"Yes. Being a wife."

"I'm not a wife." She cried then, angry and destroyed. "What kind of wife gets disrespected like this? Passed around? Be serious, Alisa.”

I swallowed hard, remaining hard to her plight as I freed her ankles.

"Don't try to give me any of that shit about this being my duty."

I opened and closed my mouth, stuck on what I could say to that. My father contributed to her hurt. My father took her like this. What could I say?

"I know what you're thinking. Our duty as bratva women is to please our men."

I cleared my throat as I moved to the cuff on her other ankle. "In most circumstances⁠—"

"No. My circumstances fucking suck. And I don't want to hear you say you care."

"I do." Even if I hadn't been told to help her, I would.

"That's rich, coming from you."

I grabbed a towel to assist her to sit, then rise to her feet. With every hiss and whimper that left her lips, my heart cracked that much more. She spoke the truth. We were expected to serve our men. There was no escape, but this abuse she endured...

"I sincerely wish this wasn't your fate, but I can't change it."

If I could, I would. For all of us.

"The fuck you would," she bitched as she gingerly walked toward the bathroom with my assistance. "You don't care. You'll get a nice, cushy life away from your father."

He'd never tried to abuse me like he did her, but still, she was wrong. I wasn't going anywhere.

"I'll still be right here to help you the next time."

Irina almost fell, but I held her up. "No, you won't."

I didn't understand.

She scowled at my reflection in the mirror. "You're pure. You'll remain untouched. You've always been safe, expected to be a virgin."

"As were you."

"Yes. Safe—until your husband gets you."

Not every man in the bratva wanted to share his wife.

"I'm sorry you were promised to Lev."

She huffed a weak laugh. "I was talking about your husband."

Mine? I shook my head, watching her carefully as I guided her into the shower. "I don't have one."

"You will. Soon." She cried out at the first touch of the water spray.

"I don't believe you." This wouldn't be the first time she'd tried to lash out verbally at me after the scenes forced on her. "My father would have told me."

"When? When he was busy messing me up like this?" She moaned and leaned against the shower wall.

"I'm too vital with the S.T.L. and making it look like a real business. He wouldn't get rid of me yet. I'm too critical in the office." Besides, he'd claimed I was too fat and hideous yet.

"I heard them. As they..." She weakly gestured at the room she'd been abused in. "They were talking about it. Damien didn't want to hear about it." She grimaced as she rubbed the blood from her chest. "Lev and your father discussed your marriage to Akim Antonov."

I froze in rolling up my sleeves to hand her the washcloth to tend to cleaning up the cum and blood.

Akim Antonov? Heir to the Antonov Bratva? Our enemy?

With how angrily Damien had stormed off tonight, that made sense. He'd always been eager to have me for himself. This news wouldn't have pleased him.

"Antonov?" I knew my father was speaking with Mikhail Antonov, but about my marriage to his son?

Please, no.

I'd heard too many horror stories about him. He was reported to be a hard, sadistic, and greedy man. As I helped Irina clean off, I wondered how much worse I would fare with him. Here, my standing as the Pakhan's daughter kept me untouched. There? With the enemy? I dreaded it.

"When?"

Irina looked me in the eye, perhaps pitying me now. "Friday."

So soon! I hardened myself to the shock and drew in a deep, steady breath. My father planned to marry me off at the end of the week, and I was only learning of it now.

"It's your duty, Alisa." Her tone dripped with sarcasm, cruel and mocking. "Are you going to be a good wife for him? Please and obey your husband, no matter the circumstances?"

I stared right back at this tortured woman. Neither of us could escape this life. All I could do was remain icy and numb and take it all.

Nodding once, I resolved to overcome my circumstances and beat my odds—no matter how awful they might be.

But deep inside, my heart chipped and cracked just a little more.