The Brothers' Mission[Sequel](18+)

Chapter Three

Amaris

"Well look who finally woke up." A gravelly, accented, unfamiliar voice said as I blink my eyes a few times, trying to get my eyes to adjust.

Shit. My head hurts really bad. I go to touch the back of my throbbing head but my hand gets caught. What the hell? My arms are above my head and restrained. "Where am I?" I croak, my throat dry and burning.

A deep chuckle rumbles from behind me.  I try to turn around to see who it is, but I can't budge at all.  Not only am I bound by my wrists, but my ankles are as well, the ropes shearing at my skin each time I try to yank myself free. The chuckle sounds again, but to my left this time.  Whoever this asshole is that's fucking with me is the first fucker I'm punching in the balls.

He clicked his tongue.  "Oh darling, Vlad doesn't want us to touch you, but I am finding it hard to resist such a pretty little temptation."  A rough hand trailed down the side of my face, stopping at my chin, squeezing slightly as he turns my face side to side.  If he gets close enough, I'm going to spit in his goddamn face. "As for where you are, you're in one of my boss's properties.  That is all you need to know for now."  His grip on my chin turned hard, turning my face toward him. I can't see him clearly in the dim lighting but I can tell he is a big guy.  Just my luck.  "Do as you're told and you may not die.  I'm with the Penzkov Bratva, and you're quite valuable to us.. for the time being.  Do yourself a favor and be a good little girl, da."  He let go of my face, trailing down the column of my throat, before he pulls away.  All I'm left with is the sound of his retreating footsteps.

I swallow thickly.  "Okay Amaris...think.  There has to be a way out of here somehow." I mumble to myself, not believing that for a second. I start wriggling against the ropes, but they dig into my skin painfully, leaving a feeling of blazing fire in the midst of my futile attempt to break free.  Did they stick razor blades in the rope?  I feel blood dampening the ropes, and if they don't kill me, an infection probably will.

A lone tear falls down my cheek. This is it. I'm done for. I'm as good as dead. They are going to sell me in some backwoods alley to sick people if they choose not to murder me themselves.  Maybe organ harvesters are their main clientele.  Will I be dissected while I'm still alive and awake?  More tears trail down my cheeks.  Realization of my pending future has set in.  My life is over. I can only hope for a quick death, however, I find that thought to be rather silly, given the circumstances I am in.  What value would I hold if I'm dead?

My breathing turns into short, fast pants and my heart begins thumping fast and hard as I start to hyperventilate.  My hearing becomes muffled and my eyes are slowly surrounded by shadows, starting in my peripherals.  Tunnel vision.  Shit.

Panic attack.  Great. I haven't had one of these in a long time. "Deep breaths Amaris."  I coach myself, trying to bring myself out of the attack. "Slow, deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth." If I wasn't bound, I'd be able to stick my head between my knees.  I continue to talk myself through the panic attack only to catch my breath entirely. 

Someone is coming.

Several sets of footsteps resonate loudly, approaching the room.  They've come for me.  My panic flies out the door and I force my body to go completely still.  I wonder how long I can hold my breath?

The footsteps abruptly stop, right outside the door, and hushed voices are bickering in Russian. Slowly I exhale in an attempt to eavesdrop, the voices sound angry. Sure would've been handy if they had offered Russian as an elective in high school. 

The door slams open, bouncing off the wall and splitting by the sound of it.  A very tall man enters.  His hair is a sleek brown and styled perfectly.  His dark eyes narrow at me.

He steps further into the room and approaches me.  This is a very bad man.  Goosebumps cover my exposed flesh and the hairs at the nape of my neck rise.  The man utters a simple "Leave us." The group of people that had started filing in after him swiftly retreat.  No arguments, no hushed murmurs, nothing.  Only obedience.

Instinctively I start pulling against my bindings again, ignoring the pain.  I flinch back as he speaks again.  "My name is Vladimir Penzkov.  Many call me Vlad or Don Penzkov.  You probably have a lot of questions." His voice was soft and heavily accented.  He pulls a chair up next to the bed I'm on and plops his ass down as if he's simply some kind of visitor.

"Why am I here?"  My bottom lip quivers as I question him, knowing whatever answer he gives me, I won't like.

He sucks his teeth for a moment as he stares down at me.  I bet he enjoys how scared I am.  Probably gets off on this type of shit.  Sick fuck.  "Let's just say you are here because you are now mine.  You belong to me-" he begins.

"I don't belong to anybody! I am not some piece of property!"  I interrupt, seething through gritted teeth as I yank against the ropes once more.  Cutting him off mid-sentence probably was a stupid move but I'm not an object that can be owned.  I'd rather die.

His eyes flash and he tilts his head, regarding me for a moment before he continues.  "As I was saying. You belong to me and there isn't anything you can do about it."  He shrugs.  He fucking shrugs!  "I suggest you hold your tongue and make sure never to interrupt me again.  Now if-"

I cut him off again, because fuck him.

"Fuck. You!" I snarl at him as I desperately try to free my limbs.  Bleeding and painful skin tearing be damned. 

He moves fast.  I'll give him that.  I didn't see his hand move, only felt it.  A sharp sting knocks my head clear to the right. "I warned you!  Do not test me little girl!"  Vladimir growls at me, his hand still raised as I turn my head to look at him once more.  Blood is pooling in my mouth and I fight the urge to spit.  Goddamn that hit hurt. 

"Who the hell do you think you are?  You can't just go around kidnapping people then claim you own them!"  I was snapping before I realized my tone. He is going to hit me again.

Instead, Vladimir softly runs his hand over my sore cheek, then along my jaw, and stops his hand's descent on my throat.  He grabs my throat tightly in his large hand, not quite cutting off my oxygen completely, but making it difficult as fuck to breathe.

His lip curls back.  "I lead the Penzkov Bratva.  That's who I am.  My name is one you will never forget, kitten."  He gave a firm squeeze, fully cutting off my ability to breathe, then let's up on the pressure mere seconds later.  "I own anything and anyone that I choose to own. You're stuck with me, so learn to love it."  He narrows his eyes into a glare and removes his hand.  I take a wobbly, deep breath while more tears fall down my cheeks.

His eyes are dark and full of malice.  He stares at me as if he is daring me to argue some more.

"Well then Vladimir," I begin, determined to keep my voice strong and steady, even though I'm feeling anything but that.  "I am Amaris Romano.  Nobody, I repeat, nobody owns me!  Especially pieces of shit like you!" I spit, hitting him in the eye with my bloody saliva.  Disgusting.  But good aim nonetheless.  I'd fist pump if I could.

I knew I messed up before he even reacted.  He flies out of the chair, knocking it over in the process.  "You filthy little bitch!" He yells, angrily swiping my spit off his face as he hovers over my body and presses a gun to the side of my face. "That's the last time you'll ever spit on me suka!"

His chests heaves as he pushes the gun into my face so hard that my head turns and sinks into the mattress.

But that's not even the worst part.  The sound of the gun cocking nearly makes me piss my pants.  He's going to do it.  I'm not ready to die yet.  I have so much left to do in my life still.  I squeeze my eyes together tightly, waiting for the pain or nothingness to happen. 

"Open your mouth," He whispers angrily.  I ignore him.  I couldn't do it even if I wanted to. 

He removes the gun and grips my face hard, making my eyes fly open and stare up into his.  He wrenches my jaws apart and sticks the barrel of his gun in so far that I gag and more tears leak out.  "When I say open your mouth, you open your fucking mouth, pizda!"

Oh fuck.  I'm definitely dead.