Page 30 of Bought By Sin

I took her from the Cartel and I spared her life in that standoff.

I brought her here with few directions of what I could do with her. With too many raw and primitive urges and wishes of what I wanted to do to her.

Resisting the possibility that I had set myself up and had met my match—a stubborn woman who wouldn’t ever break for me—I fisted my hands and breathed through the rush of adrenaline that consumed me. This excitement to stay in the fight to reach her. This burning energy to commit and not let her slip away from me.

I saw something in her from that very first second, a determination to never back down, and it was about time that I applied that concept to myself.

The wait would be worth it.

She would be mine.

I would break her, and in doing so, this feeling of being out of control would never disturb me again.

12

MILA

Igritted my teeth as I rammed my shoulder into the man’s chest. He resisted, digging his feet in as he tried to prevent me from taking him down to the mat. But I fought harder. I sought a little more energy.

No mantras of staying calm filled my mind when I was in this huge training facility.

No repeated warnings not to panic filed through my head while I was on this navy-blue protective mat.

No bursts of anxiety threatened to drown me and render me immobile.

Come on.

Come on!

I growled and doubled down on trying to bring my opponent to the shiny surface of the cushion.

You can do this.

You will do this.

Reaching around and twisting slightly, just to let him think that I was going to adjust my hold on him to bring him down, I waited for him to react.

And he did. Thinking that I was moving to shift my weight to my right leg as we twisted in this wrestling scenario, he countered to bring me down from that angle. I used his momentum against him, rolling over and finally slamming him to the mat.

“Good,” Roman praised from where he watched on the side, a strict coach and ever-watchful leader in this building. It was his domain, I’d come to realize.

“Good?” the soldier said as he winced and caught his breath on the mat.

I reared back and stepped off him while I waited for my heart to slow and my lungs to stop heaving from the exertion of defeating him. Him, another Bratva soldier who was easily a foot taller than me with a lot more musculature.

I’d taken him down.

Me.

The scrappy, short slave.

I tamped down the urge to smile in victory.

“Good?” he asked again as he got to his feet and shook his head. “That’s pathetic.”

“Pathetic that short stuff over here got you down on the mat, too?” another soldier in training teased from where he watched with others off to the side.

“Yeah,” Roman grunted, praise evident on his face as he watched me. “Very good, Mila.”