Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) by Nicole Fox (novels to read for beginners txt) 📗

“Fuck you all.” The words leave my mouth before I can think twice about them.

But even after they’re out, I realize I don’t regret saying them. Not even a bit.

I’ve taken enough shit from the cruel and ugly men in this underworld. I won’t do it anymore.

I look up and meet the gaze of all four men that surround me. Defiant. Proud. If I’m going to die here today, that’s how I want to do it.

“What did you say, bitch?” one of the men rasps in shock and anger.

I frown, realizing that he’s probably only a year or two older than I am. He’s so fucking young and it makes me sad.

So young, and yet he’s already twisted. Already broken. Already stained.

“I said, Fuck. You,” I enunciate. My words come out with jagged edges.

And fuck, it feels good to fight back.

Phoenix starts crying right on cue, and all four men wince away as though the sounds is actually hurting their ears.

“Shut him up.”

“He’s a baby.” I glare back at them. “All he knows is what he can feel and he feels unsafe. Please, just… find your humanity and let me go.”

They look at each other in disbelief, like the concept of “humanity” was utterly foreign.

One guy turns to me. He’s got blonde hair and dark eyes and a face that might have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so filled with contempt.

“And what do you think will happen to us if we do that?” he asks in complete sincerity. “You think Budimir will let us live?”

“He’s just a baby,” I say, feeling my anguish clog up my throat. “What has he got planned for my baby?”

“I wouldn’t worry about the kid,” he replies. “I’d worry about yourself.”

“I don’t care what happens to me.”

“You will when his cock is jammed down your throat.”

I set my jaw and look him right in the eye. “I hope he does. Because I bite.”

A twinkle sparks in his eyes and he smiles at me as though I’ve just won his respect.

“Now that’s something I’d pay to see,” he chuckles.

“Let me go,” I plead. “Please.”

“Maybe I will,” he says, leaning in closer.

There’s an encouraging spark in his eyes. Like, maybe “finding his humanity” isn’t such a reach after all…

Then he finishes, “If you blow me right now and promise not to bite.”

Any hope I had dies instantly.

He won’t let me go, no matter what I do for him.

None of them will risk their necks to save mine, or my son’s.

We’re on our own.

Except for Artem.

His name reverberates around inside my head like a prayer, but I can’t bring myself to really think about him.

What if I never see him again?

The thought scares me more than anything else has. Next to the fear I have for my son and what will happen to him.

“Well…” the blonde soldier says, leaning in and running his nose along my cheek. “What do you say? I promise I have a delicious cock. You’ll love sucking it.”

I slap his hand away as I stare daggers at him. Phoenix has just quieted down, but I can hear him start to whimper again, as though sensing that something is wrong.

“In your fucking dreams.”

“Bitch!” he snarls at me. “I’m gonna teach you some respect.”

He grabs a fistful of my hair and I gasp with pain as he twists my head back, forcing me to look up at his face.

Phoenix squirms and grasps at my shirt with shuddering cries as he prepares to scream.

“Please,” I say, even though the word hurts as it exits my mouth. “Please don’t.”

I cannot allow him to hurt me with my son in my arms. Holding onto my pride could cost my son everything. He is so helpless, so dependent on me for his safety.

So even though I hate myself for doing it—I have to beg for mercy.

“Say you’re sorry,” he orders.

I just stare at him, wondering if there’s any chance of me getting out of this unscathed.

It strikes me all of a sudden: I can leave with physical scars or with emotional ones.

I can leave with my son or without.

That’s the choice.

The answer seems simple when I think of it that way.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper immediately, and the words don’t hurt so much because the reason why I concede and say them at all is in my arms right now.

“I can’t hear you,” he seethes in my face.

He’s still holding my hair tight and I cringe against the pain. It feels like, if he pulls a little harder, he’ll tear off my scalp right along with my hair.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. Tears of pain blossom in the corners of my eyes.

But he’s not done.

“Do you like my face?” he muses, taking advantage of my new meekness.

I can barely hear him over Phoenix’s screaming.

“Shush, little bird,” I say to my son, rocking back and forth in the chair. “Cálmate. It’s okay, it’s okay…”

“Shut him the fuck up!” the blonde guard screams at me.

A tear falls down my cheek and lands right on Phoenix’s. He hiccups suddenly and looks at me with wide eyes as though shocked about the sensation of water on his cheek.

“I’m sorry, little bird,” I say to him. “I’m so sorry…”

I rock him back and forth even as the blonde soldier releases my hair for a moment.

I cringe down, but I don’t look at him.

I know what’s coming.

He grabs my hair again, but this time, he just wants clear access to my face. When he has it, he backhands me hard across the cheek.

Knuckle cracks against jaw.

My vision dissolves into flecks of white light like falling snow.

He rears back to swing again—when the door opens.

And the violence in the air suddenly shifts. The guard freezes, releases me. My vision starts to piece itself back together bit by bit.

I hear a voice. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

I thought I was saved.

I was so, so wrong.

When my sight finally resolves, I find myself looking at Eagle Tattoo’s broad, mashed-up face.

He’s not looking back