Claimed by the Bratva: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bratva Brotherhood Book 3) Read online

  His gaze lingers, and I wonder if he’s going to say something. Instead, he turns away.

  “What do you think, Miron?” my dad asks.

  “About what?” he replies

  “Weren’t you listening? We were discussing what punishment to give Osyen. Do you have any suggestions?”

  My stomach churns, and I try to ignore his answer, hoping it won’t be as twisted and sick as my brother’s suggestion.

  “I’m not sure, but I’m confident you and Yerik will come up with a perfectly suitable punishment.”

  I can’t understand why I feel relief that he doesn’t wish to take part in their sick and twisted conversation about torture and murder. It’s the same every night. There’s always someone needing punishment.

  Father claps his hands, making me jump in my chair. “It’s settled then. Amari will love to punish him, I’m sure.”

  I drop my knife and fork, suddenly not feeling hungry. Father has that poor animal chained up in the basement. My father mistreats Amari. Anytime he sends anyone in there, it tears them to shreds. He’s forced me to watch on numerous occasions.

  How was I born into such a cruel family?

  I feel Yerik’s attention switch to me. “Maybe one day, we can feed the bitch to him.” A lump forms in my throat at the suggestion. It’s not the first time Yerik has suggested my death, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

  Dad touches his arm. “You can’t mean your sister. Yes, she’s a burden at times, but she will fetch a handsome reward in turn for her hand in marriage.”

  I glare at them. “I am here, you know. Why are you talking about me as if I’m a thing instead of a person?” I can feel the tears glazing my eyes, but I will not let them fall. He will not get that satisfaction.

  “Don’t overstep, or I’ll make you regret it,” Yerik says, grabbing his knife and drawing it from its sheath. He points the tip toward me. “Do you understand?”

  Instead of answering, I glare at him in defiance. He may want to break me, hurt me, but I won’t let him know the pain he causes me. No matter what, I’ll stay strong.

  “Answer me, bitch,” he spits.

  “Enough of this nonsense. Yerik put the knife away and eat your food,” Father says.

  It’s a surprise whenever he comes to my aid, but I know it’s not out of care for me. He has to stop things escalating. I’m not sure what I did to deserve Yerik’s hate. It started to manifest as he entered his teenage years, getting worse the older we got.

  “Sorry, you had to witness that, Miron,” Father says, although, from the look on his face, he isn’t that sorry. I keep my eyes down and eat my food in silence. There’s a tension across the table, but my father and Yerik are soon discussing something else. It’s not long before the two of them stand from the table and head toward the dresser for more whiskey.

  “So, Sofia,” Miron says, drawing my attention to him. His unique hazel eyes cut to me, and it feels like he can see into my soul. “How are you finding college?”

  I swallow hard, trying to think of something to say. Anytime Miron speaks to me, I turn into a neanderthal. “It’s good.”

  For fuck’s sake, is that all my brain can come up with?

  He smiles at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he does. A warm, genuine smile from the cold, hard sovietnik to my father. It’s rare to see him smile, but my heart swells anytime I do—even more so when it is directed at me.

  “I’m glad to hear that. What is it you are studying?”

  I bite my bottom lip. “Literature.”

  His eyes light up in a way that makes my tummy flutter. “I always pictured you as a creative type,” he muses.

  I wish I could be more confident and out-going like my brother. Instead, I’m shy and reserved. Miron often tries with me, but I fall apart whenever I’m near him. Those eyes are so intense I can’t hold his gaze.

  Sometimes, I want him so bad it hurts. I wish I could get over this ridiculous crush. He’s old enough to be my dad, although my father is ten years older than him.

  “Have you given any thought to what you want to do after college?” he asks.

  My mouth is dry as I try to think of an answer. “I’m not sure.” I twist my fingers in my lap. “I’d love to work in the theatre, to be honest, behind the scenes.”

  He smiles kindly at me. “I think you would be great at whatever you choose.”

  I feel the heat spreading up my neck and into my face.

  “Miron, we have a business to discuss,” Father barks.

  I notice a muscle twitch in Miron’s jaw. He smiles at me, but this time, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Please, excuse me.” He bows his head slightly and walks to join my father.

  I watch the way he moves. My heart is pounding hard and fast—it does every time he is near. My father passes him a glass of scotch, which he knocks back in one go.

  Yerik punches my shoulder hard enough to hurt.

  “What the hell, Yerik?”

  “You’ve got it bad.” He smirks at me, flopping into the seat Miron had been sitting in.

  I glare at him. “What are you talking about?”

  He pulls the large, serrated knife out of his pocket, twisting it between his fingers. “You’ve got the hots for Miron.”

  I can feel the heat blazing in my cheeks. “No, I don’t.”

  He tilts his head to the side, pressing his finger to the tip of the knife. “Then, why are you blushing?”

  I glare at him, standing up, as I know there’s no use arguing with him. Yerik is an asshole and always has been. The older he gets, the more he acts like our father. I hate how brutal he can be.

  Yerik grabs my wrist hard, pulling me back to the table and forcing me down into my seat. He presses the cold metal of the knife against my throat. I’m so shocked, I can hardly process what is happening. “Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you, little sister.”

  I swallow hard, feeling the cold metal cut into the skin at my throat. “Yerik, what are you doing?” I rasp out.

  He presses the knife even harder into my skin.

  I yelp in pain, and it’s enough to draw Miron’s and my father’s attention.

  “Yerik, let go of Sofia,” Miron booms.

  I glance at him to see his eyes full of anger as he glares at my brother.

  Yerik laughs and keeps the knife at my throat. “I’m only playing about and teaching the bitch a lesson.”

  Miron’s eyes flash with anger as he walks toward us. His muscles coil and bunch beneath his tight white shirt. He rips the knife from Yerik’s hand and forces it against my brother’s throat. “I need to teach you a lesson,” he growls.

  I heat at the dominant sound of his voice, as he signals for me to move away from the table. He keeps his body between Yerik and me.

  My whole body is an inferno as he protects me like no one ever has. I watch as Miron chucks the knife onto the floor and grabs my brother by his throat, squeezing hard. “You don’t treat your flesh and blood like that.” Yerik pales, and I glance at my father, who is watching through narrowed eyes.

  He won’t like Miron touching Yerik like that, even if he does treat Miron like family. “Enough,” he shouts. “Let my son go, or we will have problems.” The warning in my father’s tone is impossible to miss.

  I would hate for Miron to come to harm, trying to help me. A muscle twitches in his jaw, as he reluctantly lets go of Yerik’s throat. Yerik scuttles away, glaring at me with such hate it makes my insides churn. He will make me pay for that later, I’m sure.

  My father walks over to Miron and claps a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Go to my office,” he orders.

  Miron glances at me and hesitates, before returning his attention to his pakhan. He bows his head and walks away from us. His back is tense as he leaves me at the mercy of my father and Yerik.

  Yerik glares at me. “It’s about time you did as you’re told,” he spits.

  My brow furrows. “Don’t be an ass, Yerik.”

/>   “Enough,” my father growls. “Go to bed, Sofia.”

  I consider arguing, glancing at my brother, who is smirking at me. Although, one glance at my father, and I know he won’t tolerate my disobedience tonight. The danger in his eyes is evident. I know what happens if I push him when he is in this kind of mood.

  I nod my head. “Goodnight,” I say, slipping out of the room and shutting the door behind me. I rest my back against the shut door. My heart is pounding hard against my rib cage.

  I can’t believe Miron stood up for me against my brother. Yerik went so pale when Miron grabbed him. I would have loved to see Miron give him a piece of his mind.

  It’s the first time anyone has stood up for me against them, and it was him. All it has done is make me love him more. I try not to let it make me feel too giddy, although everything he does makes me giddy.

  It’s not often that I’m around Miron lately, and I’m not sure how long it will be until I see him again. Every day, I hope he might turn up here. He’s the man of my dreams and has been the star of them ever since I was old enough to look at him in that way.

  When I left to study abroad, I thought I’d get over my crush. I was a silly schoolgirl, but instead, it’s become more intense. The day of my eighteenth birthday, when I returned, I fell for him again, even harder.

  I remember the way he looked at me when I walked into the dining room. He was surprised how much I’d changed, and I was sure I’d seen the heat in his gaze. He had never looked at me that way before. It was fleeting, as he quickly turned to the cold, stern sovietnik he had always been.

  I walk through the halls of our home—a place that has never felt like home. It’s too cold and detached. When I visit my friend, Elaine, I see the differences. Her place is warm and friendly. Often, our home feels more like a prison, especially since I get treated like a prisoner by my brother and father. I know they are upholding the way of the bratva.

  It’s not a female-friendly way of life. To them, I’m nothing more than a commodity, but I still try to treat them with love and respect, even if they make it difficult at times.

  A lump forms in my throat as I remember how close Yerik and I were as children. Once he was old enough to be poisoned and trained by my father to become a bratva member, everything changed between us.

  I’ve got used to the solitude of this world, but I long more than anything to be free.

  3

  Miron

  “No fucking way,” I growl, standing to my feet.

  I can feel rage bubbling and brewing below the surface. I shouldn’t speak to my pakhan that way, but I can’t control it. Luka Romanov, my long term friend, and pakhan wants to marry Sofia off to Dima Veselov. A boy who is as cruel and disgusting. I can’t let that happen.

  Luka’s eyes narrow. “Miron, it is happening. I’ve signed the contract already.” He has never cared much for his daughter. “Yerik is to marry Georgy’s daughter, Milana. They will be here tomorrow evening.” I hate the way he and her brother treat her. Sofia should hate both of them, but she tolerates their despicable behavior.

  It is one of the things I love about her—she has such a big heart, although her family doesn’t deserve her love.

  I pace the floor of the room, keeping my fists clenched. Luka knows I care for his daughter. He knows we’re all like family. What he doesn’t know is that I’ve loved his daughter ever since she returned from studying abroad. I’ve loved her and pined for her, despite my desperate attempts to keep away.

  The stunning, caring eighteen-year-old woman who returned caught my attention straight away. I knew we could never be together—Luka wouldn’t allow it. I know she feels the connection, too, as I’ve seen the way she looks at me. I’ve caught her staring more often than she knows. Her cheeks turn pink anytime she gets caught. She is shy around me.

  I want to knock the shyness out of her. I want to have her panting and naked on my bed, begging me for my cock. It’s all I can think about whenever she is near.

  “Miron, I wanted to tell you first as a courtesy. I know you are like an uncle to her.”

  An uncle. Bullshit. I’m not like fucking family to her, as I love her in a way family can’t love. There’s a short pause as he stares at me. “You’ve always had a way with her that I don’t. I hoped you would be the one to break the news to her.” He clears his throat. “She will be leaving tomorrow evening.”

  Hot rage pulses through my veins. Luka can be such an ass at times. He bought me here to tell me he is forcing his daughter into the clutches of an evil man, and that I have to break it to her. I’ll break something to her, but it won’t be that.

  “I guess that means you have chosen your side in the war?” I ask, unable to look Luka in the eye. Andrei Petrov, pakhan to the New York brotherhood, has declared war on Georgy. If Luka intends to sell his daughter off to him, it means they are in alliance.

  “Of course, there was no way in hell I was siding with that cocky bastard, Andrei.”

  I nod my head, formulating a plan as we speak. Andrei is the best of the pakhans in North America, and far more honorable than Luka or Georgy. He may help me if I reach out to him, but I will have to go about it correctly. I can’t have him thinking I’m a spy.

  I will steal Sofia away from here. There’s no way in hell I’m letting him give her to the Veselov’s. He will likely have my head for what I plan to do, but I don’t care. She’s mine—always has been and always will be.

  I gain control of my rage and turn to face Luka. “Fine, when do you want me to speak with her?”

  A small smirk plays at his lips. “You can stay the night and tell her either this evening or the morning.” He shrugs. “It’s up to you.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll see if Sofia is awake now. I can’t stay.” I shake my head. “I have some business to attend to in the city.” He would stop me if he knew what business.

  “Suit yourself.” He waves his hand toward me. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening for the send-off.”

  “Sir,” I bow my head, hating that I have to act civilly toward him. Luka has been my friend for years, but over time he has changed. He isn’t the man I once knew in Russia. Tomorrow, I will be dead to him.

  I head out of the library and toward the main hall. The thought of waking Sofia and entering her room excites me more than it should. She will be shocked. I walk toward her room and stop in front of the door.

  My heart pounds unevenly in my chest. I’m running off of pure adrenaline. Sofia won’t be marrying Dima so long as I have breath in my lungs. This could cause a war, but I don’t care.

  I knock frantically on her door, unable to calm my firing nerves. There’s a part of me that fears her reaction. I’ve seen the way she looks at me, but what if she doesn’t want this? Maybe she wants to marry Dima Veselov. The thought makes me insane.

  Sofia swings open the door and gasps, trying to shut the door on me to hide her perfect, curvy body in a thin, silk nightgown. I grab the door, stopping her from shying away. My heart pounds even harder. My cock thickens in my pants.

  “I need to speak with you.”

  She nods her head and tries to push the door. “Okay, can you give me a moment to get decent?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve seen you in it already. What’s the point?”

  She swallows, and her cheeks turn bright red at my refusal to allow her to dress. I want her half-naked in front of me. I’ve wanted it since she came back to America two years ago.

  Finally, she lets go of the door, and I step inside. I shut the door and glance at her, wondering how the fuck I’m supposed to approach this. My stomach twists with nerves. I’m never nervous, but with Sofia, everything is different. There’s so much at stake.

  “Your father asked me to come and break some news to you,” I start, glancing over at the sofa in her bedroom. “Shall we sit?”

  She nods, leading me over to it.

  I’m steel in my boxer briefs, as I can see her skimpy little thong under the she
er fabric of her slip.

  She sits down on the sofa, trying to hide her perfect body with her hands. “What news?” she asks, cheeks pink. Sofia won’t even meet my gaze.

  “Look at me,” I order.

  She does as I say, meeting my gaze. There’s hot, fiery passion in her blue eyes. A passion that takes my breath away. I’ve seen her look at me with it before, but it quickly extinguishes. Perhaps, in her bedroom alone, she has the confidence to accept what this is between us.

  “Your father intends to marry you off to Dima Veselov.”

  Sofia’s eyes fill with panic, and she shakes her head. “What? He can’t…” I watch as she stands to her feet, no longer trying to cover up. The blood has drained from her face.

  Everyone knows the rumors about Dima. He is a disgusting pig of a man. If you can even call him a man, he loves abusing women in bed. It’s not your standard BDSM that he’s into. He likes to maim women and take them against their will.

  As the son and future pakhan of the Miami brotherhood, he gets away with his disgusting ways. No one would dare question him on it. I’d die before she ends up in the clutches of a man like that.

  “Sit down and let me finish,” I order, keeping my voice calm

  She sits, and my heart squeezes at the sight of tears running down her cheeks. I want so desperately to pull her onto my lap and wipe those tears away. Instead, I refrain for the moment. She needs to listen to all I have to say before I get carried away.

  “I won’t let him marry you off to him.”

  Her head snaps up, tears still streaming down her face. “What do you mean?” She shakes her head. “If my father has decided it, then—”

  “I don’t give a shit what your father has decided,” I growl.

  Her eyes widen, and she falls silent, staring at her hands entwined in her lap. “Why would you help me?”

  It’s impossible not to notice the hope in her voice, but I can’t reveal my true intentions—not yet. She can’t know how much I love her—no one can. I have to make plans to get her away from here first.