CHAPTER 4

ZARYA ROGOV

I couldn't breathe.

My fists continuously banged against the car's window, but all the fighting seemed like a child's tantrum that usually goes unnoticed. A similar feeling of being trapped and helplessness clawed at my chest.

This was the worst of all.

I tried to save myself from a bad situation, only to end up in worse.

Men treated women like objects, but this man treated everyone like an object.

Tears gushed down my eyes, and despite that, the fire in them didn't wither away.

My bag, phone, money, everything were taken away from me.

I sniffed as I slowed down with the banging. My arms got sore, my head throbbing with pain, and all the while the man beside me sat unfazed.

"You can't do this to me. You can't force me to marry you." I glared at him through my teary eyes. He raised his gaze from his phone and passed me a poker look.

"Oh yeah? Watch me..."

I continued to glare at him, but the way his eyes ever so slowly caressed my features and settled down on my lips had me fully scooting towards the door.

"My father would kill you." I rasped, making him raise his brow at me.

"We'll see...who kills who." his threateningly low tone had a shiver running down my spine, and the father I despised so much was suddenly on my worry list.

He turned his gaze back on his phone as if he didn't just scare the shit out of me.

He was doing this to use me against my father, to weaken him even more, but I wasn't even sure if my father would kneel for someone as pathetic as his daughter.

"You won't g-get anything out of this."

"...." He remained silent.

I've heard of him...a lot more than needed.

He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, everyone listened.

He was 35 years old, almost ten years older than me, and not only that, he had a three-year-old boy from one of his mistresses.

He was like a terror to the people of Russia, pretty notorious in the underworld, and that horizontal scar on the side of his neck was the very evidence of how much he was wanted. He had enemies all around me, yet he stood like immovable power.

So dark, so dangerous.

I immediately shook my head. There was no way I could even afford to be next to him without trembling like a leaf. How was I supposed to consider him as my husband?

My teary, helpless eyes stared out at the city. I always wanted to roam on these roads freely, without being restricted, watched, or the sword of death hanging over me.

The cars slowed, my heartbeat spiked, then stopped when the cars halted in front of the church. My mouth went dry, my heartbeat continued to drum in my ears, all the color drained out of my face, and my legs turned weaker by each passing second.

Sergei got out of the car, and I flinched when the car door shut loudly. Panic was getting bad to me. What could I even do here? The door to my side opened, and I immediately tried to scoot towards the other side, only for a large scarred hand to grip my thigh and yank me back to my place.

"Agh, no!" I screamed when he pulled me out of the car and gripped my arm painfully tight. I tried to pull away, only to be dragged by him right towards the church, a few of his trusted men following closely behind.

"No, please, no!" I hit his arm, did everything in my power, only to be effortlessly dragged by him inside the church. I squinted my eyes when the church's sharp light stung my eyes.

A sinner like him bringing me to church to make me his wife. Should I be grateful he was actually marrying me instead of killing me?

I was dragged right to the altar. A few of his men were already waiting there for us. He finally let me go, making me stumble forward. I massaged my throbbing arm and looked around in fear.

Mother was right; escaping was never an option.

I was about to turn around for a run, but he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me to his side. I yelped and began to struggle, but my struggles died down when a priest stepped forward.

I immediately shook my head at him.

"They are forcing me into this," I yelled, but the priest gave me a dead stare. He looked like he was already dead. A sinner carrying a little burden of bratva.

Sergei leaned down and whispered in my ear. His hot breath fanned my skin, making it ticklish, and the roughness of his voice was enough to make me tremble.

"Do you really think he can save you from me?" He asked, and more tears welled up in my eyes.

"You won't get a-anything from this, my father doesn't c-care." I cried out only to hear him chuckle next to my ear. I never knew a little chuckle was supposed to sound this threatening.

"I know."

He knows?

"Then why are you doing this?" I asked as I began to struggle again.

He didn't answer and turned his attention back to the priest. His huge, veiny hand went from the side of my waist to rest right on my stomach like he owned me. I hated how weak I was against him.

I put my hands on his to push it away, but it remained glued to my stomach even after I scratched his skin. He was warm, unlike his cold-blooded heart.

"You can start," he ordered the priest, and I immediately shook my head. My eyes desperately looked around to seek some kind of help, but all of these people here were heartless as ever.

Sergei would ruin me.

He looked exactly like my ruination. Dangerous and cold.

When the priest asked me if I would take Sergei Morozov as my husband, my lips remained sealed except for the frequent sobs that escaped through. I looked pathetic.

I didn't say anything.

Nothing.

Sergei gestured at one of his men, and he stepped in front of us with an iPad in his hand. I frowned as I stared at the screen. What was this?

"You see this? These are the innocent people who will die if you retaliate." Sergei whispered in my ear, and suddenly the scene before me made sense. My frown melted into sheer shock as I stared at his men holding their guns towards the head of a few women and children who were held hostage by them.

My orbs throbbed in horror.

"I-I..."

"Hmm? Louder!" The dominance in his voice had me trembling even more.

"No!" I refused.

"No?" He ever so slowly repeated my rejection.

"Well..."

I looked away from the screen, but a gunshot had me flinching. Sergei roughly gripped my jaw with his right hand and forced my head up towards the screen.

I saw it.

A woman on the floor with blood gushing out of her head, painting a traumatic canvas on the floor for the kids watching, if they got to live longer.

I stared at the screen wide-eyed, tears rushing down my face. I wanted to speak, but the words remained stuck in my throat.

My legs went weak, and I was about to fall down, but his hold on my stomach and jaw kept me stable.

My single ‘no’ caused a life.

"No?" Sergei whispered in my ear. I watched as one of the men on the screen moved towards the child, putting his gun on the little one's forehead, and before he could pull the trigger.

"I DO, I DO, I DO!" The agreement slipped out of my mouth, louder just as he wanted. I couldn't afford to see another innocent person losing his life.

"Good girl," he left my jaw and caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. The roughness of his hand, the threateningly gentle touch, didn't help soothe the shivers raking my body. I pulled my face to the side, wanting to get away from his touch.

"You monster!" I gritted in hatred.

"Darling, I'm worse."

He was very much proud of his title.

The priest then asked Sergei, and he was quick to say, "I do," he said, sounding bored while I was on the verge of fainting. He doesn't care. He would either kill me after using me against my father, or he would throw me away like I don't exist.

After all, he was a man, worst of all.

The marriage contract was then given to us by one of his men. We had to sign it for legalization. His man turned over the pages, and Sergei kept signing them with a blank face. When the paper and pen were forwarded towards me, I refused to grab the pen, but a single stare from Sergei had me gripping the pen in my trembling fingers and signing off the papers with tears streaming down my face.

I just signed my death certificate.

After that, a ring box was presented in front of us on a red velvet cushion. How ridiculous! I was crying my eyes out here, and this heartless man beside me was busy completing the ritual.

The ring box had a couple ring in it, but when I looked closely, the smaller ring had Sergei carved on it.

Huh?

Was this all already pre-planned or what?

Sergei let go of my stomach and tightly grabbed my right hand to stop it from trembling, of course, so he could put the ring on easily. He took the ring out of the box and looked down at my face.

All this time, his eyes didn't stray away from me. Despite the blank face, the intensity in those hazel eyes was dangerous yet unknown.

He slowly put the ring on my ring finger, the Sergei name flashed right on top of it. I felt like he had finally put a leash on me. He pulled my hand up, closer to his face, and stared at the ring on my hand for a good while before completely letting go of me.

I immediately stepped away from him.

I watched as he took out his ring and wore it on his ring finger before looking at me. As soon as I matched his gaze, I looked away, but then he stepped forward, wrapped his right arm around my waist, and gripped my jaw, raising my head to meet his gaze.

"I may kiss my bride." He whispered huskily under his breath, and my red, teary eyes widened.