Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
And it was in her eyes that because I knew her so damn well, I saw the regret. The Butcher didn’t want to die, but she had told me before that her life was not going to end well.
“Go,” she said.
I didn’t want to go.
“Please,” she said. “For me, live. Let me do this right.”
She had done so much right in her life, although she refused to see it. There was another bang at the door, and I looked down the long tunnel. It was so small. I have no idea what I was supposed to do.
Rushing toward her, I hugged her tightly, hoping and praying she was wrong. That my best friend would make it out of here alive.
“Fucking go,” The Butcher said.
I took off, hating myself as I put one step in front of another. The pain in my body was only increasing. Is that why The Butcher told me to go? She knew I was going to slow down our escape and this was her way of making sure I survived. I’m still miscarrying, of that I know, and I have to fight for my life.
I’m in pain. There might even be a broken rib. My body no longer feels like my own.
In the distance, I hear the screams, the shouts, and I don’t stop, even as I start to sob. My best friend is fighting for her life to keep me alive. I find the strength to keep moving.
I don’t know why she thinks my life is better than hers. Ivan Volkov adored The Butcher. Anyone could see it. I was just a means to an end.
As I make the clearing, I see the daylight peeking through, and I have to wonder if they are taking me to an underground tunnel or something like that. Just as I’m about to make it out, someone from behind grabs me, slamming me full force against the stone wall.
At first, I’m shocked. I don’t do anything because I don’t know what to do. If someone made it through ... then ... The Butcher was dead.
I spin around, and I don’t recognize this man. I attempt to block his punches, but I’m unsuccessful. The truth is, at that moment, I know my best friend is dead, and that she died protecting me. He grabs me around the throat and starts to squeeze. I don’t have the fight in me.
“Remember, we’re women, and that means we’re weaker. It’s not me trying to play up men. It’s a fucking fact. That doesn’t mean we can’t fight, but we’ve got to think fast. Men have weak spots, and as long as you’re not squeamish, use them.”
The Butcher had told me that once through my training.
I was squeamish. The truth was, being married into the Volkov Bratva was a fucking mistake for me, because I was fucking useless.
However, something came over me—something dark—and as I pretty much choked to death, I found the strength to reach for his head, then do exactly what The Butcher had taught me to do.
Chapter One
One Year Earlier
Victor
My wife is outside in the garden talking with the gardener, looking quite happy and content.
Freya Harris. My wife.
I thought I had finally escaped Ivan Volkov’s wretched plans. He did have me engaged to a slut a few years ago, the same woman I took to Slavik’s territory, but something changed.
After Slavik and Aurora, Ivan changed course. The women that had been a bunch of entitled bitches had not made the final cut. Since then, one by one, us Brigadiers had slowly fallen to the whims of our Pakhan, our boss, Ivan Volkov.
I don’t know why Ivan changed his mind. To a point I understood why he’d chosen the wives he had for all of his men. Aurora had been part of the Italian mafia, those connections alone had proven invaluable, and of course, it also helped that Ivan now had all those territories, which had been divided between his Brigadiers. Then there was Adelaide, the sweeter daughter of a millionaire empire. Again, that shit show had also played out, bringing Ivan the victor in that battle. This played into Charlotte, one of the most hated and abused daughters I ever saw of the Evil Savages MC, which was now controlled by Rage, and of course, aligned with Ivan Volkov. After that, Niamh, the Irish mafia princess, who inherited her fortune, which if my memory serves, was given to Ivan Volkov.
Now as I look toward my wife, I wonder what she brings to the table. We’ve been married for a month at this point, and I’d been successful in avoiding her, and it wasn’t hard to do.
Freya wasn’t bad. She was nothing like the first woman I’d been forced to be engaged to. This woman was young and inexperienced. She was a fucking virgin, and yes, her father made sure he got her checked as well. Piece of shit that man was, although the world wouldn’t know it. Harris Harris, yep, that was his fucking name. His parents loved calling him that, and they said it was the name of their future empire.