The Russian Fighter (Mafia Men #1)

The Sick House

Chapter 23

Edited

*There's a scene of violence. Read at your own risk.*

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"You were brave. To have given yourself up for your family," Natasha said as we road further and further from Boris's beachfront home.

I stared at nothing but darkness from the back of the truck. "Bravery has nothing to do with it. It was something that needed to be done."

"Then you must know," Natasha began. "Igor designed this institution for girls like you. It's a slavery for disobedient young. Rich folk come here and pay money for us to give back a child of submission. Mafia members pay more for the orphan boys and girls we get on a daily basis."

"You kidnap," I stated.

A feminine laugh. "You are smart. There are many ugly things in the world. Those who we choose have no family in history, so we stalk. Study. Then during shipping, we take them from their beds and give them a new life."

"How do you know their life wouldn't have been better if you'd let those children get adopted?"

"We don't, but the men above us don't give a shit. We are messengers. I am in charge of keeping you all in line. Unlike the rest, you will go back home in three months."

"Do you know when my wedding will be?"

"January 10th. As I hear, your cousin will be doing the arrangements while your fiancée trains for his next fight with Jean-Luc."

My ears perked. "Fight? What fight?"

"It is the talk of the brotherhood. Apparently he took quite a shine to you. Maksim wants to demonstrate example to all men that you are taken."

"Oh."

A part of me felt the happiest I ever felt. This was the first I was hearing of Maksim showing any sort of possession for me since discovering my betrayal. He seemed to hate me more and more as the hours went. But the elation melted remembering his last words.

Survive for me, pretty girl. You are still mine. This changes nothing.

Years must have gone by the time the van came to a stop. The evening had gone, turned over to midnight. The moon shone like a crescent.

"We're here." Natasha climbed out of the van as two burly men let me out, lifting me by the arms and revealing light to my dark world.

My first impression of the location were acres of evergreens within the middle of nowhere. All I saw were trees. Numbers and numbers of pine oaks that touched the sky, leaving the imagination to the eye. And standing center was Bol'noy dom.

It recited to Sick House.

The front entrance was sealed as a thick, brick wall bordering the perimeter in square formation. We were inside a fortress where more trees and green islands crowded the towering building with its thousands of mirrors staring down at me. There was a fountain decorated between two double-sided staircases leading to a pair of doors. From the outside it appeared as a paradise.

"Welcome to hell."

We began the tour.

Natasha explained boundaries, places I could and could not go. We passed five or seven levels of doors, locked away with screaming patients of all ages. This almost reminded me of American Horror Story's Asylum. Few patients lingered in the halls; teenage girls younger than me with collars on their necks, a man dragging them by force with a connecting chain, being carted someplace horrible.