Forced Mafia Bride (Yezhov Bratva #2)

Chapter 17 – Rosalyn

Brown kangaroos and flying peacocks.

For weeks, that was all I’d been thinking about. What colors I’d paint the baby’s room, the designs I’d plaster from the ceiling, the aesthetics, the cot, all of it.

I’d had such wild imaginations that Hannah had to introduce me to something she said everyone was using now, especially for creative ideas. Pinterest, they called it. She’d gotten us a new phone so neither my brother nor Nikolai would be able to track us and set it up with an old ID she hadn’t used in years. And it had been a lot more than useful. But they didn’t offer much about kangaroos and flying peacocks. Mainly A.I. generated pictures, but I desired something a bit more original. If I went along with the kangaroos and flying peacocks, it would blend for both sexes, whether my little baby turned out to be a girl or a boy.

Humming a crazy morning tune I’d accidentally picked up from one of our neighbors, I moved about the small kitchen space, stroking my midsection while I poured the last of the Cheerios from the box into the bowl. Sighing, I grabbed the remaining milk carton from the hand-me-down refrigerator we’d managed to get at a yard sale and chugged a bit of the milk before pouring it on the cereal.

The last creamy drop from the box evoked an eye roll before I dumped the carton in the trash. Thankfully, Hannah was out for groceries, but I stayed home as I’d consistently done for the past month since my baby bump was now slightly noticeable. Hannah made countless attempts to talk me out of my paranoia but hadn’t succeeded and was not going to. I didn’t want the neighbors talking or asking questions.

I feared that news could spread and word would get to Nikolai, revealing our location and, worse, my pregnancy. If either happened, I didn’t even want to imagine his reaction.

We’d lived in the hood for two months, and the folks in the residence were nice, but we could never be too careful. We’d managed to keep our heads low, and now, when we were so close to finally leaving, I wanted to make sure our heads were even lower.

One week more and, finally, freedom.

I felt a kick and wasn’t sure if it was the baby or my excitement for the experience of true liberation. Whichever it was, I was grateful.

Casting another tired glance at the half-empty cabinet, a sad smile touched my lips. We had a lot to restock and a very limited budget. Restarting our lives in a new city would cost more than just dreams and hopes. Our savings were drastically running low. Although we planned to get a job, I knew it was more likely for Hannah to land a better opportunity faster than I would. I had no work experience, and I carried a child.

Lifting the bowl, I took the spoon to my mouth, munching on the crunchy cereal as I moved back to the tiny space we’d make-shifted to a living room if I could even call it that. The power was out— one of the bills Hannah had to settle today —so I reached for the fan on the table, and a knock came on the door.

I dropped the fan, looking toward it.

Deep down, I wanted to believe that it was Hannah, but an eerie silence followed. For our safety, we’d come up with a security phrase that we both used for identification when either of us were on the other side of the door.

Hearts and keys and locks broken .

Those were the keywords. Sue me for insisting on something rather cheesy, but we were both excited to finally be rid of the haunting Gallagher and Yezhov nightmares.

Another knock and more silence.

My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach like an anchor sinking to the depths of the ocean. On instinct, I placed the bowl beside the fan, rising to my feet with the shock that Nikolai could be standing on the other side of that door.

Panic seized me.

He’d found me.

I clawed at my chest, struggling to fight the breath-snatching anxiety that the nightmare we thought we’d escaped had found us, and grabbed the closest weapon—the spoon from my bowl.

It was no knife, but at least I could pluck an eye with it if I had to.

My heart thundered like a hundred bass drums being struck simultaneously, and salty tears sprang to my eyes, mingling with oxygen and carbon dioxide going in and out. In and out. I could barely breathe.

Another knock on the door, more rapt and sharper than before, and my feet moved backward on their own will. Before I got any farther, the feeble wood cracked with a force so loud I thought my eardrums blew.

Splinters flew in a gust of blinding dust, and men in familiar black trooped inside, infiltrating our tiny safe space. They kicked back our sofa and cracked the center table, taking my unfinished bowl with it as they created a path for him.

I stifled a gasp and widened my eyes.

If it were Nikolai standing at the center of the room, I wouldn’t have suddenly felt the pressing urge to have a gun instead of a spoon. If it were Nikolai, I wouldn’t have seen the gruesome tortures of my past flash before my eyes.

If it were Niko, my heart wouldn’t have stopped, and I wouldn’t have whispered the very name that kept me up at night, tossing and turning and looking over my shoulder in anticipation of terror. Something wet and warm dropped on my cheek, and I wiped it away before I realized I’d shed a tear.

Fiery red hair. Angry blue eyes.

“ Ronan .”

He grinned, not holding back the evil snarl or wicked glint in his eyes. Triumph . The doorway framed his broad shoulders, casting a dark silhouette that dwarfed our modest apartment, making it suffocatingly small.

He dusted a lint off his navy green jacket and stuck a hand in the pocket of his pants. Aiden took that moment to walk in. Long strides, blond hair, and a black Givenchy suit that meant business.

Our eyes met, and his softened in the splits of milliseconds. There was an immediate connection. The last time I’d seen him was months ago at Nikolai’s house, and even then, we didn’t say much to each other. We couldn’t. For an odd reason, looking at him made my heart ache immensely. He barely showed any emotion for the sake of Ronan standing beside him, but his silence spoke more than I knew he ever would.

“I bet you’re elated to see your brother once again, Rosalyn. Did you miss me?”

My eyes snapped to the brute of a man calling himself my brother.

One of his men barged in through the narrow space, dragging a struggling woman. Her hands were tied, and her mouth gagged. Black bruises sat on her eyes, and there were blood stains on her chin.

I wondered how Aiden felt, being subjected to stand there and just watch as Ronan made a mockery of his cousin. His blood.

The spoon slipped from my hand, clattering on the ground. “ Hannah ?”

I wanted to lurch forward, dig his glaring eyes with that spoon, and run away with Hannah. But my feet froze on the spot, unmoving. Not even when Ronan came closer, his cologne matching his toxicity.

“You’re a monster!” I yelled, resisting the urge to spit on his smug face and hit his chest. I didn’t want to look at Hannah, to remind myself of the physical pain I made her endure. “Let Hannah go! She didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who ran away. It was all my idea.”

“Nothing I don’t already know.” He sucked on his teeth and looked around. “It’s funny that you think you’re in any position to demand anything. I mean, considering the dunghill you’re currently living in, it’s sad to see how far you’ve fallen from the top to the bottom, sister.”

I scoffed. I shouldn’t have been surprised to know he deluded himself. My teeth jammed so hard that my head throbbed.

“That’s where you get it wrong, brother . Living with you was the bottom. This dunghill, as you call it, is the top.”

I didn’t see it coming. In a lightning-fast move, his long legs eliminated the distance.

His hand closed around my hair like a noose, fingers twisting into a merciless grip. He yanked me down with savage force, slamming me onto my knees. My scalp screamed in protest as he ripped out strands of hair, the pain searing like a branding iron.

My vision blurred as my face smashed into the cold floor, the impact shuddering through every bone. I caught the daze of horror on Aiden’s face as he looked at me. He wanted to act—I saw it in the way his jaw clenched and fingers flexed—but if he moved from that spot to interfere, Ronan could snap his head off his neck in literal seconds.

A scream tore from my throat, but Ronan dropped to the floor with his hand clamped over my mouth, muffling the sound. His fingers dug into my jaw, threatening to shatter it, and his spittle splattered on my cheek when he hissed.

“At the end of the day, it doesn’t fucking matter. You know why? It’s because I’m here to take you back to your fucking husband. Because of you, Tristan has refused to release payments. We are fucking sinking, and it’s all your fault. I don’t care if I have to fucking drag down that fucking aisle; I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

I whimpered, hanging my head up to reduce the striking pain on my forehead. I’d never felt so helpless. Unable to fight or scream and defend myself. In a swift motion, his eyes moved down my sweatshirt, stopping at the bump poking through the downy fabric.

His eyes grew large, and the hate in his eyes doubled, flaming like a stoked fire when he stared at my face.

“I am one hundred percent fucking sure that you haven’t fucked Tristan. So, it’s definitely the Russian’s.” He released a dry cackle and glanced over his shoulder to Aiden. “She really is a bitch, isn’t she? I mean, I’ve heard of how smooth he is with the ladies. I just can’t believe she spread her legs for Nikolai Yezhov . One look at him, and it was just that easy, wasn’t it?”

Aiden’s jaw flexed, but his eyes didn’t meet mine. And at the corner, for the first time ever, I saw Hannah cry.

“Sorry not sorry, but you’re not keeping that thing, Rosalyn. It’s going to ruin my plans, and I can’t have that.”

Faster than I could react, he turned back to me, grabbed my jaw, and squeezed, his thumb and index finger digging into my cheeks with the intention of causing damage.

“You betrayed us, you backstabbing bitch. You betrayed your family and everything Sean worked hard to build. You should have just died that day. But no, Father decided to play the hero with the red fucking cape to save your life.”

Tears scalded my eyes, streaming down my face as I struggled to breathe.

What was he talking about?

Amusement twinkled in his eyes at my confusion. He brought his lips to my ear. “You didn’t figure it out? The accident…wasn’t an accident, dear sister. Apparently, Sean thought he had a better shot running things than our father. It should have been a two-in-one shot. You and Dad out of the picture.”

My lungs burned, compressed by the crushing weight of his confession. I looked into his eyes. There was no remorse. No regret.

For fourteen years, I’d blamed myself. I wanted to attend that stupid party so badly, and Father wasn’t eager to take me. He didn’t want to go. I’d spent those years wishing I’d listened to him and just agreed to stay home that night. If I didn’t insist, he wouldn’t have driven by to take me there.

And if he didn’t come, there would be no accident. I’d still have my father with me.

I’d bore that guilt, knowing that there was no redemption from it. And now, it was revealed that there was sabotage—a conspiracy and intention to end his life. Father was murdered by his own sons.

Ronan’s grip tightened, hair ripping from my scalp like roots torn from the earth. As pain ravaged my being, a dark reprieve swept in, sparing me further torment.

****

I jolted awake with a start, my vision slightly blurry and my head banging with a horrific headache.

“ Water .”

Groaning, I lapped my tongue and swallowed, hoping to have a trickle of saliva wet my throat, which was as dry as the desert. “I need water. ”

I blinked, confusion setting in at the sight of boring white walls and a sterile stench. Gradually, bits of my memory began to stitch themselves together, and I remembered everything from having Cheerios in the morning to the last thing I heard Ronan say before the world went black.

I had fallen so hard, everywhere ached: my face, my body, my….

My heart pounded, and my hands flew, reaching toward my stomach, but they didn’t get very far. My wrists jerked backward, undeniably restrained by ropes strong enough to snap a baby’s wrist with the force I’d used.

“Cat, is the anesthesia ready?”

Anesthesia?

I winced and took the time to look around. The white walls and sterile stench should have registered. I was in a hospital, and there could only have been one reason why Ronan would have brought me here.

There was a silver-haired doctor and nurses in scrubs, moving about the room, picking up tools and checking the machines, preparing for a procedure. I hiccupped a sob, pulling on the ropes tied around my wrists. Battered and bruised, I could barely mutter an objection. But I tried, with the tears leaving burning trails down my cheeks.

The doctor, with the name tag “Dr. L. Keith,” came up to my side and pointed a flashlight into my eyes.

“ No . Doc…please.” My breath faltered, and the words wouldn’t even come out. “Doc, I’m four months.”

“I understand, Miss Gallagher.” He tucked the flashlight into his pocket and began slacking the gloves on his fingers, looking anything but understanding. “But I don’t have a choice here. Your brother has given specific instructions to remove the child.”

“ God, no…. ”

No, this couldn’t be happening to me. It had to be a dream. It just had to be. I couldn’t lose this child. I hadn’t gone this far, put up with the inconveniences and strains, to end up losing my baby.

My breathing sped up, escaping in ragged puffs, and I shut my eyes when Doctor Keith asked the nurse to administer the injection.

I didn’t see the nurse, but I heard the scrambling sounds of objects on a tray and knew she’d picked the syringe. If she managed to get that needle under my skin, that would be the end. But while still conscious, I was determined that if I had to go down, I’d go down fighting.

So, I did the first thing that came to my mind.

I screamed.