Promised pain

Twenty

Levine Romanov
I'm bored as hell.
We've been at this event for over five hours now, my heels are starting to hurt, my head is sore, and my eyes feel as if they've been deprived from sleep for a long damn time.

"I'll go to the bathroom." I whisper in Enzo's ears as I excuse myself, he nods to me and I let go of his hand that's cautiously clutching mine.

I breathe out slowly as I exit the room, the loud music still follows me but it calms down a lot, and so does the tension of my muscles.

I find the bathroom with ease before slipping inside, taking a look at myself in the mirror, my red lips are slightly worn-out, so I retrieve my lipstick and reapply it.

I brush my hair and spread the messy strands that are sticking somewhere different, breathing in and out slowly and just when I'm about to slip outside again, clutching my purse.

The sound of footsteps stop me in my tracks, and confusion roams over me when a man steps inside the bathroom, my brows furrow and just when I'm about to protest he speaks.

"You look stunning in real life, my doll." His nickname freezes over my whole body, my chest clenching in horror as dread fills my bones. I ignore his words and walk away, or at least try to.

Because his body blocks my way, he's bulky, muscled, and looks fucking scary, but I raise my chin, trying to suppress the tremble of my body as I easily connect the dots with his disgusting nickname.

I gulp, "Fucking move." My voice is hard, as if I don't fear him, but that's far from it, challenge sparks inside of his sadistic gaze, and my heart drops to my stomach when he takes another step toward me.

His chest nearly bumping into mine, tears blur my vision but i grit my teeth as I blink them away, I clench my fists and do my best as I try to run and push away from him.

And I succeed.
Momentarily.

Because I'm whirled back so fucking hard I drop to the floor, pain explodes through my head and I scream, he kneels down in a single second and his body cages mine, blocking all the ways out.

Bile rises up my throat the longer I continue staring at the look in his eyes, his rough fingers caress my cheeks, and I never stop screaming, "How pretty those screams sound, my doll, it's a shame none of the people inside will hear them." The music.

A choked sob rattles in the air and it's easy to recognize it as mine, but I hold my head high and fight with all I have, kick, punch, but it's no use, and that gets easily proven when my body gives out until all I see is black.

Minutes later...
Lorenzo Petrov
Alexander Romanov is a scary man, it's an easy guess, every single guy in here fears him even if they have mastered hiding it.

And right now as he glares at one of the men, he fucking trembles, just like that, and while it's very enjoyable to watch this, Levine has taken too long to come back.

I jog out of the room, ignoring the hot gazes I feel on my neck as I stroll inside the women's bathroom, not a single person is here, I call her name and I get no answer, my footsteps pause, body fucking freezing over as I take in the blood on the floor.

And a ribbon.

I walk away, my mind is barely working as I try to connect any fucking thing, when I get inside the room again, I reach out to none other than the man who'll love slicing me into pieces two seconds from now.

Uncle Alexander looks up at me, almost as if he knows something is wrong, "I need you to fucking listen to me." I hold up a finger, rage taking over my tone as my whole body shakes with anger.

He glares, great, he's listening then, "Levine. She was with me. Went to the bathroom, and she took long, I was just there checking for her, and that's what I found." I hold up the bloodied ribbon.

At the mention of that, he grabs me by the collar. I don't even fight, wanting the probable next punch to destroy me, I shouldn't have brought her here, I shouldn't have fucking brought her here.

He doesn't punch me though, but his fucking glare can kill, in a second, he calls out for his second in command, who looks just as murderous, he demands something in Russian that I'm too distracted to fucking translate.

But when all his guards' guns are raised in the air, as they pull the trigger, I listen, the doors suddenly shut, everyone looks horrified, even the Criminals here, ironically.

"No one is leaving until I find the unlucky bastard who chose the worst way to die today." He holds up his hands, his rough accented voice rippling in the air, and no one dares to speak. Even when not a single person notice the emotion in his tone other than anger. I see it.

Worry is all over his face.

He glares at me one more time, and I follow him as he walks out of the room, "What were you thinking when you brought her here?" He snarls, malice filling his eyes, I don't answer, because I didn't fucking think.

I just saw that smile spreading on her face when she asked if she can come, and I agreed. Just like that.

Stupid motherfucker, I walk away, out of the whole place, "Where the fuck are you going?" He yells, "I'm finding Levine." I'm getting her tonight. Whether I lose my goddamn life in exchange or not.

The mere thought of her being hurt is fucking suffocating, I hop into the car and fire off the engine, retrieving my phone as I connect onto the hotel's Wi-Fi.

It doesn't take long before I'm hacked in on the cameras, I flip through them, heart roaring in my goddamn chest when I see the damn guy walking in the women's bathroom.

I zoom in, his face doesn't look familiar, not in any sense, I clench my jaw when I see him spreading his fingers over her hair as he carries her away in his arms moments later.

Unmoving. I call Rio, he answers on the second ring, "I'll send you a picture of a man. In ten minutes, find who the hell he is and where he lives." I snarl, unable to contain my anger.

"Jesus, ten minutes is impossible." He explains in his stoic rigid tone, "Fucking find him!" I yell, my maddened voice unfamiliar to my own ears, I've never lost my mind like this, over anything.

But Levine is different.

Jesus, she's always been different, I tighten my hand around the steering wheel to stop my thoughts from trailing in that direction, "Ten minutes." He finally understands that it's urgent and ends the call.

Red mists my vision and my muscles tense to an uncontrollable halt, Levine is out there being hurt. My body shakes with anger, but the sickening possibilities that continue flipping through my mind never stops.

Not for a single second.

A vote is really appreciated.