Other than listening to the guards' conversations, which I don’t understand, and hearing some movement in the room beside mine, things have been quiet.
I think I’ve been missing close to twenty-four hours, so there’s a good chance the other capos and Dad are in Bulgaria already.
The thought brings me some peace, knowing Raya won’t be alone for very long.
After we were adopted, it took a year before I allowed my sister to sleep in her own bedroom. Until my late teens, Dad was the only man I trusted alone with her.
When asked why I’m so overprotective of her, I don’t have an answer. It’s just always been that way.
Maybe it’s because I carried her out of the burning building where we lost our parents, and it mentally fucked with me, thinking that if I let go of her, she’d die as well.
Who knows.
Footsteps sound up, drawing me out of my thoughts. Lifting my head, I look at the doorway.
When Boris comes in with a bunch of guards. He looks pissed off, and it makes me grin at him. “Aww…did I kill one of your favorites?”
He shoots me a dark glare and comes to stand in front of me. “Tell me about the meeting. I want to know everything you and Petkov talked about.”
I lock eyes with the bastard right before I take advantage of the few inches I’m able to move, head-butting him.
Boris staggers backward, his hand flying up to his face. Because he’s much shorter, I didn’t hit his nose, but at least I managed to daze him.
Something slams hard into the back of my knees, and my legs give way, my body weight putting sudden strain on my arms and wrists.
There’s another brutal blow to my lower back, and this time I can’t suppress the grunt.
Boris recovers, and coming at me, he slams his fist into my jaw.
The beating lasts for painful minutes, and by the time Boris holds up his hand for the men to stop, I can’t get my feet beneath me and hang by the chains.
A slurred chuckle escapes me as my vision blurs, and I manage to say, “I’m not telling you shit.”
I’m surprised when Boris and the men leave, but not even seconds later, I hear a door slamming open, then he snaps, “Fix up the fucker.”
I struggle to lift my head and lean it against my bicep, my eyes on the doorway.
The moment Nina rushes in, seeing her does something weird to me. Strength surges back into my body, and as concern flashes over her beautiful face, I manage to find my footing.
She grabs the bucket and hauls it closer before going to the cabinet to get whatever she needs, tucking a couple of things into her jacket’s pockets.
She’s still wearing the same clothes as last night.
Coming back to me, she climbs on the bucket and tilts her head back.
Even standing on the bucket, she has to stretch, which brings her close enough for me to catch the faint scent of soap still clinging to her. No perfume.
My shoulders burn from all the strain they’re taking, and my back aches something fierce, but the moment her fingers touch my cheek to clean away blood, the pain recedes to a dull pulse.
“Hold still,” she whispers, bringing a needle closer to my busted cheek.
The corners of my mouth tip up. “Careful with the needle, Nina. I’d hate to think the butcher’s daughter is getting ideas.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and I don’t miss the fear trembling in them. She pinches the cut together. “Hold still, or I’ll stitch your skin crooked.”
I grin, my gaze locked on her strikingly beautiful face so close to mine. “So you care what I’ll look like once you’re done patching me up?”
“Not in the least. I’m just here to keep you alive.” Her voice is stronger, but there’s no bite.
