Chapter Twenty-Five

**Tempest**
Tears blur my vision as I’m dragged past the rows of bikes by a humongous, bald-headed dickhead. He’s taller than Sargent and has his hand fisted in my hair.

“Gently, Sergei,” my captor snaps at his bald-headed guard.

My captor being a very Russian, much older man called Yaroslava. The same man that Sargent told me about just last night.

I don’t beg anymore, not like I did for the first five minutes, insisting I had nothing to do with this. Yaroslava pushed a blade against my neck and that’s all it took to silence me for the journey here. I would have been safer hiding somewhere. They stopped us en route to the airport. They left Miles by his car in a bloody pulp after this bald fuck and another guard kicked the shit out of him. He put up a good fight but it wasn’t enough. I don’t even know if he’s alive.

“We do not want her as bald as you by the time we make it inside.” Yaroslava laughs loudly at his own joke.

Pain grips my scalp as his hand leaves my hair and all of my roots fight to return to their original resting spaces.

I whimper when his strong grip moves to my arm and yanks me into the house where men are scattered in all uniforms. Some in cuts, some in suits, some in casual attire.

They all look our way and they part as I’m shoved through. Their chatter now silent, so silent I can hear something else. Something that sickens me. The sound of a woman’s moans of pleasure coming from upstairs. How can anybody be having sex at a time like this?

She’s so loud.

“Sit,” Yaroslava commands me and I’m pushed toward the sofa facing the stairs.

I sit and the big guy stands behind me as Yaroslava greets Stone and the others in here.

“Clear out,” his other guard demands.

“Except you,” Yaroslava says to Stone who is eyeing me warily.

Stone nods politely and his men filter out.

“Who the fuck is this asshole?” Yaroslava laughs, pointing at Sargent’s head of security.

Stone tells him as much and Yaroslava sighs and raises his silenced weapon. I hear a small noise and watch Tucker drop to the ground lifeless. A bullet between his eyes.

I scream, a reaction I can’t suppress but the man behind me clamps a hand around my mouth.

“Shut up,” he barks at me as my tears fall onto the side of his hand. He pinches my nose until I start clawing at his wrist. My chest tightens with pain.

“Was that necessary?” Stone asks Yaroslava who just grins, his wrinkled face stretching to his eyes.

The hand leaves my mouth and I choke for air as, finally, a door upstairs opens and a disheveled-looking Sargent and a red-haired woman both descend the stairs less than a minute later.

I pray another man joins them and Sargent just went up to get them but I can see the lipstick around his mouth. I can see the evidence of his erection through his jeans, I can see a dark hickey on his neck. My heart, already shattered, evaporates and all emotions leave me. I think I’m in shock.

“Daddy!” the woman cries, racing to Yaroslava and throwing her arms around him.

They speak in Russian and I’m surprised by how fond of his daughter he is. I keep looking at them because I can’t handle looking at Sargent. The images of him and her are in my head. The images of a man dying moments before are too.

So much is happening, I can’t process any of it.

“Wait.” The woman looks at me. “This is her?”

I stiffen when she stalks my way in heels so high I wonder how she’s not broken an ankle yet.

“I just fucked your boyfriend,” she states, grinning and watching for my reaction with soulless brown eyes.

“He’s not my boyfriend, I hardly know him,” I reply, my throat scratchy and sore.

She frowns at my defiance as I hold her gaze. “Shame, I always did like a cat fight.”

I stay quiet and glance over at the lifeless legs just visible from the side of the couch. My body tries to heave but I force it back.

“Leave Tempest alone, Nastya,” Yaroslava demands. “Somebody bring the girl a whiskey, she’s trembling.”

“No, thank you,” I reply, thinking that if I am pregnant, I don’t want to hurt it anymore than the stress of this situation already is.

“Drink,” Yaroslava snaps and Nastya returns to me with the bottle. She pushes it hard against my lips, holding my head in place by my hair. When it filters into my mouth I start choking again and push her hand away so hard the bottle drops to the ground and smashes.

I feel her palm against my cheek, a sting, followed by the ringing of my ear. She just slapped me.

I glare at her as a handprint bubbles on the surface of my skin. I don’t touch it, I don’t give her the satisfaction.

“Nastya,” Yaroslava says but sounds more amused than annoyed as he pulls his daughter to his side and then pushes her behind him. “Now, to business.”

I look at Sargent who is being restrained by Stone and the other guard that escorted me here. He’s red-faced, I’ve never seen him so angry. Is that because of what she did? Why does he care? He was just fucking her.

“I’m going to ask you personally as you haven’t been forthright with Mr. Stone,” Yaroslava states, pulling his gun back out and twisting it in his hands. “Give me the name of the person who told our tales and if we investigate your innocence, we might let you go. Nearly twenty years of loyal service between us means I’m willing to be reasonable. To a point.”

“The person has been dealt with,” Sargent replies and I hear the desperation in his tone.

“I doubt that.” Yaroslava raises the gun to Sargent’s head and laughs loudly. “This is why I brought her. I had thought she meant more to you but finding you in bed with my only daughter has me questioning her usefulness. Still…” I watch as the long cylinder barrel of the gun slowly moves my way until it’s pointing directly at my eyes.

“No… she’s innocent,” Sargent yells. “Truly she has nothing to do with this.”

“Neither did he.” He nods to the body by the couch and the guard behind me chuckles as though this is a TV show and not real life. We’re nothing but cattle to these people. “Tick tock, Mr. Wolf. A name, please.”

“He made a mistake,” Sargent yells, pulling forwards but he’s being held too tightly. “He did what anybody would have done.”

“Who?” Yaroslava asks calmly, his mask still one of happiness. He’s so fucked up. “Not why, Mr. Wolf, but who?”

I look down the barrel of the gun, wishing this would all just be over.

Sargent doesn’t reply, of course he doesn’t, it’s Maddox. I’d never expect him to choose his son over me and Maddox is my life. I’ll never give him up either.

Yaroslava lowers the gun and an evil smirk creeps across his lips and flashes in his brown eyes that are just as soulless as his daughter’s. “Perhaps he needs a little more incentive?”

Nastya claps her hands and nods to Stone. “Have him fuck her.”

My teary eyes go to Sargent who looks at me, panicked and likely as terrified as I am.

“I don’t rape women, not my style,” Stone states, raising a hand as his eyes too come to me. “Doesn’t get me off.”

“No matter,” Yaroslava says with a shrug and I feel the bald-headed bastard’s hand in my hair again. “Sergei loves to take women.”

“No,” I yell when he clamps an arm around my waist and brings my back to his body. I struggle, clawing at his arm as he holds me tight. “Let me go.”

“The couch will do, Sergei.”

Sergei turns me and grins in my face. My body hits the couch with a jarring thud that sends pains shooting through my neck, burning the muscles that protect it.

“Let me go,” I beg. “Please… stop!” I kick out as he grips my jeans and rips open the button without so much as a yank. The little metal circle hits the wood floor and rolls away.

“If you don’t take your hands off her…” Sargent yells as my jeans are tugged down. I feel the air hit my rear as I try to crawl away.

This is humiliating, terrifying, I don’t want to be here anymore. Just end it. It needs to be over.

“That’s enough,” Stone bellows and I feel his hands under my arms, yanking me off the couch and away from the guy that smells of petrol.

He glares at us both as Stone pulls my shaking form into his side, bending to slide my jeans back up to hide my modesty.

“I won’t be a party to this, Yaroslava,” he snarls. “This is not how we do shit. Not in my fucking city.”

“Such sensitive little creatures in the States,” Nastya says while rolling her eyes.

I heave when I see Sergei palming himself over his trousers. My hand grips the back of Stone’s shirt. I’m going to faint.

“You already have the name, you already know who has done this so why fucking toy with an innocent woman?” Stone yells.

“Innocent?” Nastya laughs loudly, her tone a screech against my humming eardrums. “She’s as innocent as us. Did you know she killed her father and brother when she was only fourteen years old? Murdered them in cold blood. Hardly innocent.”

When eyes come to me at that revelation I shrink away. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean to kill them.