Chapter 48

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

QUINN

When Emil opens the door to his apartment, I am surprised at the face on the other side. The scar. I can't imagine he is the Pakhan. At least, not after what happened in the van. That would be like any of the Evans boys sitting by idly as one of their men outright disobeyed an order in front of them.

No…

He's someone else.

"Yuri," Emil greets him, his demeanor turning cold. "I didn't realize you were bringing a guest."

"Kira," he discloses, leading her over the threshold and into the room. The look in her light-blue eyes is undeniable. She's scared. Terrified . I know because it's the same look I saw in my own when I stared at my reflection just moments ago. "She's a gift."

"A gift?" Emil scoffs at the notion, and as I am looking at her I don't understand his reaction. The young—maybe twenty-something—blonde standing in front of me is absolutely beautiful. She's tall and lean with minimal curves. Her face mimics her body—slender, perfectly proportionate, and with cheekbones that most women would kill to have without contouring. If it weren't for the bruises on her arms and neck, she looks like she could own the catwalk at any fashion show. "Kira is not a gift for the Pakhan. She's my late father's whore. Grand Central Station has seen less men than her cunt."

"Maybe," Yuri admits, "But it still makes for an enjoyable fuck. Give her a try if you don't believe me."

Emil looks at me, his eyes hungrily roam over my exposed skin in this tiny dress, before responding, "I tend not to put my dick in holes that have been fucked by my father."

That couldn't be further from the truth.

He'd happily fuck her if he weren't hoping for the opportunity to be putting his cock in me tonight.

"Your loss." Yuri shrugs. Swiping Kira's long blonde hair over her shoulder, he further exposes the massive marbled purple and green bruise running along her neck and down her shoulder. "I've been training her for him. She fucking loves pain. He'll be able to doso much with her before she becomes useless to him. She is very much a gift ."

My stomach churns as I continue to listen to these men talk about her. To them, she barely even constitutes property. She's nothing more than a set of tight holes to them. Something for them to fuck, torture, and dispose of when she no longer meets their needs. I'm not na?ve. I know that men like this exist in the world, but seeing it— hearing it— might be the most disturbing thing I have been through.

And that's saying a lot.

As they continue to talk, it's not lost on me that they view me the same way. Emil will gift me to the Pakhan to endure what I would likely only wish was a short life. Or he'll keep me until he tires of me and begins offering me to his colleagues like Yuri.

"Have you tried the Evans' whore?" Yuri inquires a little too eagerly.

"Not yet." His dark eyes wander toward me. "I didn't want her tasting like condoms or dripping with my cum if he decided he wanted to sample her."

Sample me? Am I fucking appetizer platter?

I swallow back vomit when the taste of bile hits the back of my tongue, barely managing to keep it down as Emil ushers me and Kira to the couch. The men— a recognition they don't deserve— leave us for a moment in the living room as they disappear to the kitchen in search of drinks.

"Your husband is coming," Kira whispers so quietly that I think I'm imagining the barely audible words.

Needing to know if she said what I think— and unsure if she means the man I want to marry or the one I might be forced to —I try to remain quiet when I whisper, "What?"

She waits for Yuri to turn his back. "Your husband and his brothers… The Evans… They are coming."

"You know Declan?" I excitedly whisper louder than intended and am relieved when I find that my outburst doesn't draw the attention of Yuri or Emil.

"Declan? No. Liam. He tried to save me." She lightly shakes her head, "I should have let him."

A knock brings Yuri and Emil back to the living room, immediately silencing our conversation and removing any ability I have to ask the thousands of questions racing through my thoughts. Emil opens the door and greets the Pakhan reverently before drawing his attention to me and Kira.

The Pakhan is younger than I expected, roughly the same age as Declan. He's a massive man, making even Conor seem small. Tattoos cover so much of his skin that his hands are practically black, and ink flares up his neck and onto parts of his face. His eyes meet mine and ice runs through my veins at their darkness. There is nothing behind them. They are soulless, just like I imagine them to be.

"She's prettier in person than I expected," he tells the other men and licks his lips hungrily as he continues to hold his dark gaze on me.

Please hurry, Declan.