Forced By the Ruthless Bratva Beast (Tarasov Bratva #3)

Chapter 6 – Julia

I pulled over outside a building with the name “Metro Hospital” written on it in bold font. The engine died down, and I let out a sigh, slumping into the driver's seat as my hands tightened around the steering wheel.

My eyes were shut, lips pressed into a thin line as my chest heaved slowly. It was chaotic in my head, with depressing thoughts of my reality tugging me in every direction and charging my tear glands. My heavy heart was broken, bleeding from the pain that woke me up every morning—a constant reminder of who I was and why I must stay focused on my mission.

From my purse, I withdrew a small photograph of my family, which I carried with me at all times. In it was my dad in a black suit, his right hand wrapped around my mom's slender waist. She was wearing a classy red dress with a charming smile on her lips. In front of them was my younger brother, Tom, and me.

The picture was taken six years ago, so I was much younger then—only fifteen years old. My brother, who was ten at the time, had his arm around my neck, his eyes sparkling with excitement and a wide grin perched on his face. My head was thrown up, as the camera had captured me laughing hard at a joke Tom had made.

As I sat in the car, staring at this photo, my hand flew to my mouth as if to prevent a sob from bursting out. I missed everyone in that picture. I missed them all so much that it made my heart bleed.

My life hadn't always been this sad and pathetic. No. If anything, it used to be so full of joy, laughter, and bliss, all of which were now in the past. I was raised in a home where I never lacked anything, and neither did my younger brother.

Dad was a formidable businessman—a tycoon, one of the most revered and respected individuals in the city. He was the founder and CEO of Gray Consolidated, a successful company renowned for its innovative entrepreneurship and strategic acquisition. Under my dad's leadership, Gray Consolidated was a behemoth admired and feared by many—especially competitors. The company’s success was envied by a lot of people, which put a giant bullseye on the Gray family.

Dad was just a man diligent in his business, but his competitors didn't see him like that; they saw him as a threat.

I might have been just fifteen at the time, but I knew he had enemies. Dad had many associates and business partners, but he always said that he didn't trust them.

His voice echoed in my head: “Not everyone that laughs with you loves you, sweetheart.”

I let out a deep sigh, sinking into the dreadful memory that kept me up late at night.

I woke up to the ear-piercing scream that echoed throughout the mansion. My heart was racing, chest heaving as I sat on my bed, wondering what was going on.

The power was out, and darkness had settled in the house that night. It was pouring outside with occasional clashes of thunder as a strong wind whistled in through my window. The curtains danced to its rhythm, and in a flash of lightning, I caught a glimpse of the wall cock across my bed. It was barely past midnight.

The scream came again, and I recognized that voice. “Tom!” My eyes widened, and I tossed the sheets aside, jumping out of bed.

With that much adrenaline pumping through my veins, I ran faster than I had ever run before, my footsteps pounding against the floor. I got to his door. “Tom!” I banged on it but got no response. I didn't bother checking if it was locked or not; I kicked the damn door open and rushed inside. “Tommy!” I looked around, but he wasn't there.

I heard his terrified scream again, and this time, his voice emanated from our parents’ room. My heart skipped a beat, and without hesitation, I took off reflexively, sprinting down the hallway with reckless abandon.

The darkness was closing in on me, but this was my house, and I was already familiar with the place. I didn't stumble on anything, nor did I miss a step while bolting toward my destination.

I rounded a corner and burst into my parents’ room, only to find Tom on the ground, weeping beside our parents’ lifeless bodies.

“No…” I muttered, frozen in shock as tears stung my eyes. I couldn't feel my legs, and each step seemed impossible. My gaze was fixed on the chilling scene in front of me.

Both my parents lay motionless in the pool of their own blood, their fingers eerily locked together—a testament to their enduring love even in death. Tom was staring at his hands, covered in their blood, as he jerked his head to look at me, his expression a mixture of horror and bewilderment. Those pale blue eyes, once vibrant, now seemed cold and empty, as though the light within had been snuffed out.

My brother was numb, frozen in shock, with lips slightly parted as if in a silent scream.

I sank to my knees, tears rolling down my cheeks with an uncontrollable flow as I dragged myself over to their bodies. “No, no, no….”

I took both heads in my arms, my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces. My tears, hot from pain and anger, dropped in their blood as I clenched my fingers into fists. I vowed in that moment to make it my life's mission to find whoever had been responsible for this and make them pay.

Back in the car, I sniffled, drying my tears, my mind filled with rage and resentment.

The authorities had said my parents had committed suicide, but the authorities were either wrong or they were paid to cover up the truth. My parents would never commit suicide; I knew that much. They had two kids whom they loved and adored, and there was no way in hell that they would take their own lives. There was so much to live for, so killing themselves made absolutely no sense at all.

My parents were murdered in cold blood, and it wasn't a robbery gone wrong. No. They were targeted and eliminated. This was someone's doing, someone who saw them as a threat and needed them out of the way. Dad had a lot of enemies—a lot of people who wanted to hurt him. And according to Larry Paige, Dad's lawyer—the only person he ever really trusted outside the family—my parents’ death was an assassination. Larry believed that whoever was responsible for this must be someone high up in the game and that they could come for us, as well.

So I ran.

Changed my last name from Gray to Sawyer.

For six years, I'd been living on my own, fending for myself with only one thing in mind—only one thing keeping me going. Revenge. Sometimes, I sought comfort in the horrors I would invoke on those who hurt me, those who snuffed out the light in my brother's eyes, those who robbed my parents of their lives.

I clenched my fist, my jaw tightening in fury at the thought of Roman Tarasov.

I'd found out about two years ago that my father had an ongoing clash with a Russian Bratva during the period of his murder. He'd had a falling out with Roman Tarasov just a few weeks before his assassination, and after his death, after the fall of the house of Gray—the fall of Gray Consolidated—it was the Tarasov Bratva that benefited the most. I hated Roman so much, and I wouldn't stop until I burned his fucking empire to the ground.

Infiltrating his nightclub was phase one, sleeping with him was phase two, and even with all his influence and power, he wouldn't see what hit him until it was too late.

As my dad used to say, “Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.”

I let out a sigh, slipping the picture back into my purse as I wiped my face with a handkerchief, adjusting the rearview mirror to catch my reflection. For a fleeting moment, I stared at the woman in the mirror whose eyes were blazing with fury before picking up the bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat.

The door opened, and I stepped out of the car, squinting at the sunlight. I shut the door, locked it, and headed into the building.

My heels clicked against the linoleum floor as I glided through the reception. “Hey, Suzanne.” I waved at the woman behind the counter, smiling like an angel.

“Hi, Jules.” She grinned widely as she watched me walk through the hallway.

To most people, Julia Sawyer was a nice, caring young woman who would always smile no matter the circumstance. They thought Julia Sawyer was an angel, a lovely individual who couldn't hurt a fly. If only they knew. One of the nurses here had once told me that she wanted to be like me, unphased by whatever challenge I was going through. Of course, I'd smiled and given her some encouraging words.

People loved Julia Sawyer, but they'd fear Julia Gray if they ever met her.

I pushed the door open and walked into the ward where my brother was lying on the bed, the electrocardiogram beeping steadily beside him. The fragrance of the sunflowers and daisies wafted through the air, their vibrant colors defying the somber atmosphere.

My eyes locked on my brother's motionless body as I approached his bed, my expression softening. He just turned sixteen today, and even after six long years, his condition never improved. The incident—the gruesome scene of our parents’ death—had messed him up so badly, and the doctors said he was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Tom hadn’t just lost the light in his eyes that night; he’d also lost his voice and his ability to speak or express himself.

I strolled over to the bedside table and gently placed the bouquet of flowers on the surface. My lips trembled as I jerked my head toward the ceiling in an attempt to force back the tears that filled my eyes. Seeing him in this state always broke my heart, and no matter how many times I came here, I would never get used to this sight.

“Hey, Tommy,” I greeted, my voice barely above a whisper as I sat on the edge of the bed, watching his blank face. “Guess what day it is.” I sniffled. “It's your birthday, buddy.” I paused, exhaling slowly as I wiped my tears. “I brought you your favorite flowers: daisies and sunflowers. You can smell them, can't you?”

He just lay there, too numb to speak or move.

I put my head down, fingers rubbing over my eyes as I wept with an aching heart. “Happy birthday, Tommy.” I looked at him, drying my tears with the back of my hand.

My mood switched from anguish to rage in a split second, and my jaw clenched, leaving deep creases on my forehead. “I’ll make him pay, Tommy. He will pay dearly for every tear that I've shed,” I said, taking his hand, my gaze fixed on his vacant eyes. “Roman Tarasov will pay for all the pain he's caused us.” I gently squeezed his fingers. “I promise you that.”

“That’s right, Julia,” a familiar voice spoke from the entrance. “We'll make him pay for all the atrocities he's committed,” he added, his voice dripping with certainty.

I raised my head, my teary eyes meeting with Agent Anderson's gaze.

Oliver Anderson, a portly forty-year-old man with dirty brown hair that complemented his beard, was the FBI agent following up on the death of his parents. He was the one who told me about Roman Tarasov's involvement in the case.

Agent Anderson had spent years searching for ways to bring down the Tarasov Bratva, but they were always two steps ahead of him. They covered their tracks, and although the agency knew they were dirty, there just wasn't enough evidence to put them away for good.

The Tarasov Bratva was very well connected, with countless strings to pull whenever the need arose. Hence, it was next to impossible to bring them all to justice.

Anderson was looking to bring Roman Tarasov and the entire Bratva to justice to make them atone for their sins. But I was in this for revenge. He'd seen my situation as an opportunity to finally get the men he'd spent years chasing after, so he proposed an alliance.

With the agency's approval, we’d embarked on this mission to destroy these cruel men from the inside. He was my backup, always supplying me with relevant information needed for the execution of our plan.

Anderson hated Roman almost as much as I did, but I didn't just hate the man…. I wanted him dead.