Forced to Marry the Russian (Nikolai Bratva Brides #2)

Chapter 15 - Zia

“Where is my husband?” Zia asked, clutching her robe tightly to her chest. She’d woken up alone minutes ago, which was strange considering Lev was always beside her whenever she woke up. At least for the past couple of days.

It was barely four in the morning. Way too early for him to already be out of the house if it wasn’t an emergency, which made it even more suspicious.

She’d come to two conclusions when she couldn’t find him anywhere around the house; either something urgent had come up, or he’d returned to his past routine. None of those conclusions were better than the other.

The tall man, Ilya, she’d heard Lev call him, glanced down at her. If it weren’t for the slight smile on his lips, she would have assumed she was bothering him.

“The Chief has a visitor.” He cleared his throat. “Please go upstairs, ma’am. He’ll join you soon.”

It was a lie. Zia could feel it. If Lev had visitors, he would be in the living room or his studies, yet she hadn’t been able to find him anywhere. Not in the living room and definitely not in his study. “Where is he and said guests?” she asked dryly, lifting her brow and daring him to lie to her face again.

His throat moved as he swallowed. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t tell you.”

“You’re lying to me,” she said sharply, not minding her tone. “I’ve looked for him everywhere. He’s not home, is he?”

Or maybe he was, but it had to be somewhere she didn’t know existed in the house. A secret room, maybe.

“I’m right here,” a rich, deep baritone said from down the hallway.

Ilya moved to the side to give Lev and Zia a clear view of each other.

Zia scrutinized her husband. He was in a black shirt and black pants, which meant he’d gone out. But it was the red rage in his eyes and the blood dripping down his hand that forced her to take a step back. “Where have you been?” she asked, her voice strained.

Lev would never hurt her, but he would hurt other people as easily as it was to kill a fly. Had he killed someone? If so, who and why?

A shiver ran down her spine, goosebumps rising on her skin. Why did he look so angry? Something must’ve happened.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a drink,” he said icily. There was no emotion in his voice. Not even fury. “It’s still early, why are you up?”

Zia ignored his question and asked another one of her own. “And the blood in your hands?”

Lev’s gaze lowered to his hand as if he had no idea they were stained with blood until she mentioned it. “This is nothing.”

Zia shook her head. “No, it is not nothing. Your hands are dripping with blood. Someone’s blood, and enough blood that could only come from killing or badly hurting someone.”

“I’m tired. You should come to bed soon, too,” Lev said simply. He walked toward her and then right past her as if she was a panicked woman nagging over nothing.

Zia felt her chest tighten as realization washed over her. She was married to the second son of the Nikolai mafia family. Her husband was the second in command. He was a criminal and killer. This was what she signed up for when she agreed to marry him.

He was a killer. He would kill and hurt more people than she could imagine, and she had no right to question him. This was the reality of the mafia, and Lev Nikolai is who she married.

Her breath caught in her throat. How had she never thought of that until now? She’d been relishing in the fact that he was handsome and rich, and she hadn’t once thought of the reality of what their marriage would entail. She would have to be okay with him being a killer, and she would have to accept that fact.

But what if she couldn’t? She knew she could not sleep next to him every night, not knowing how many people he’d killed before bedtime.

She had no idea if she could ever accept that, if she could accept him for who he truly was.

***

Dinner was silent, save for the clinking of forks and spoons on ceramic plates and the pounding of Zia’s heart.

Lev had been incredibly quiet since she confronted him about his whereabouts the night before. He hadn’t given her an answer yet, and for some reason, he’d been ignoring her existence as well.

She didn’t like it one bit. She already had enough going on trying to reconcile how their marriage would keep her shackled up to the ways of the mafia forever. The way he was acting wasn’t helping matters, either.

She threw a slice of cucumber in her mouth and chewed it loud enough for him to hear. Her exasperation rose to her throat when he didn’t even seem slightly bothered by it.

The air crackled with tension, and not in a good way.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” she finally asked, unable to keep up with the silent treatment. Cold shoulders weren’t her thing—she preferred to address things head-on.

Lev looked up from his phone. His face was as blank as a rock. “Keep what up?”

Zia sneered. Was he going to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about? She wasn’t going to let him do that. “Don’t play dumb with me. Where were you last night?”

“I told you I needed—”

Zia slammed her hand on the table. The glasses and plates rattled. “Don’t lie to me, Lev. I’m your wife.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he said with an indifferent tone. “I just don’t think it’s important enough for me to tell you.”

“Well, I think it is.” She pursed her lips. “My husband disappears from bed and returns hours later soaked in blood that wasn’t his. I need to know.”

“Fine.” Lev nodded and placed his phone on the table. Giving her his undivided attention, he said, “I met with Owen last night.”

Air stalled in her lungs. “My ex?”

“Yes.” His jaw ticked, but that was all the sign that she needed to know he was angry. “Safe to say he’s a complete asshole. No class, no shame, and no redeemable qualities.”

A cloud of shame fell over Zia because she’d once been in love with the classless, shameless, and irredeemable man that Lev had just described. It’d been weeks, but that didn’t stop the embarrassment.

“Did he do or say anything to you?”

“A few cuss words, but rest assured he’ll never bother you again. I made sure of it,” Lev said, holding her gaze.

Zia stilled, and the room went silent for a moment. “Did you kill him?” she asked quietly, terrified of the answer she would receive.

She’d been so angry when she asked Lev to punish Owen that she didn’t stop for a moment to think of what kind of punishment Lev would dish out. Owen deserved to be punished for what he did, but killing him was too much. Killing him meant she now had blood on her hands. How was she supposed to live with herself after that? Knowing a man, as cruel as he was, died because of her.

Lev’s voice broke into her thought, bringing her back to the present. “He’s not dead, but he’s in a state worse than death.”

“Where is he?” Zia asked, pushing up from her seat. “Where is Owen?”

Lev frowned at her concern for Owen. She understood him quite alright, but she couldn’t allow his blood on her hands. Not as disgusting as it was.

“Where is Owen?” she asked again when Lev didn’t answer her.

He blinked. “In the basement.”

“We have a basement?” Zia quickly dismissed the frown contorting her face. “I need to see him.”

“He’s in a bad state. It won’t do you any good if you see him now.”

“It won’t do me any good sitting here doing nothing.” She inhaled a calming breath. Being furious at Lev wasn’t going to make him bend to her will. If anything, it would only make him more reluctant to tell her the truth both now and in the future.

Just when she thought he would stir up an argument and walk away, Lev stood to his feet. “Come with me. I’ll take you to him.”

Zia’s mind went mush for a moment. “You’ll take me to the basement?”

“Isn’t that what you want?” Lev asked, cocking his head. “I’ll warn you, though, he’s a bloody mess. You can refuse if you can’t handle what you’ll see.”

She straightened her spine and held her head high. She couldn’t stay behind, acting like a coward. She needed to see what her husband was capable of. “No, I’ll come with you.”

He nodded once and led the way to the basement. It was at the last wing of the mansion, in a place she would have never imagined was used as a torture room right under her nose.

For some reason, the hallway leading to the basement was more chilly than the rest of the house, making her blood run cold. Two guards stood in front of the brown doors, and they both moved to the side as Zia and Lev approached.

One of them opened the door as Lev turned around to face her. “Brace yourself, you won’t like what you see.”

Zia swallowed as her anticipation bubbled. How bad could it be that he had to warn her several times about what she would see? At most, it would be a dead man. A sharp sting splintered through her chest as the image of Owen lying lifelessly on the cold floor flashed

through her mind.

No, she thought to herself. He wasn’t dead. Lev wouldn’t lie to her if he were. He had to be alive. He needed to be alive.

For a minute, she considered turning around and walking away. If she didn’t know, then she could pretend nothing happened. She could simply tell herself he deserved it repeatedly until she believed it, but she couldn’t. She had to see for herself.

“Let me in,” she crooked, her voice betraying the calm demeanor she put on.

A heartbeat passed before Lev finally pushed the door wide open and walked in. She followed him in, her eyes meeting Konstantin’s first the minute she was inside.

The big man was wiping a bloody scalpel on a towel, and there was no hint of emotion in his eyes.

A whimper from the other side of the basement had her turning her head. Her jaw fell open, her eyes wide with horror when she saw Owen. He was swollen and bruised beyond recognition.

He wasn’t wearing any pants… and the word rapist was carved out on his thighs. It was bold enough for anyone to see, bold enough that she could see his inner flesh despite the blood pouring down from the wound.

Bile rose to Zia’s throat, and her eyes watered. “How could you…” Her teary gaze floated between her husband and Konstantin. “How could you two do something so—” She trailed off, her voice breaking.

There was no time to question them. She could see the emptiness in their eyes. Nothing she said would change anything. “Get a doctor,” she ordered the two men looking at her as if they couldn’t decipher what they did wrong. “Now!”

She didn’t completely blame them. What Owen had tried to do to her was something no woman should ever experience. Still, it was too much. They’d taken the punishment too far.

She ran to where Owen sat and cupped his head with one hand. Patting his cheeks with the other one to wake him up, she whispered, “Owen, can you hear me?”

His eyes opened slightly, and a weak smile formed on his lips. “Zia,” he whispers back. “You’re here.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling her heart squeeze in her chest. “I’m so sorry for this.”

Owen laughed sardonically, his voice filled with hatred and no remove. “I am not,” he said through gritted teeth. “All of this would have been worth it if I’d gotten the chance to rip you apart that day. I’ll make you pay, bitch.”

Surprisingly, his words weren’t a knife to Zia’s chest. She didn’t feel sorry for him because she thought he was remorseful. Men like him wore their egos on their sleeves, and with what Lev had done to him, he felt he had no reason to apologize. “I’ll get a doctor to look at you,” she said, ignoring his insult. “I hope we never see you again after that.”

He didn’t refuse when she freed him from the rope bounding him to the chair and called one of the guards outside to help carry him out of the basement. She also knew Lev was glaring at her and that he hated that she was helping Owen.

She took him to one of the guest rooms. Dr. Volkov arrived moments later—a Russian man in his sixties with gray hair, a thick accent, and a handsome face.

Zia stood at the door, watching as he took care of Owen’s wound. The other man was in immense pain, groaning and sweating despite how cold it was.

“Will he be okay?” Zia asked when he finished.

The old doctor nodded. “The wound isn’t infected, and I’ve applied some antibiotics. He’ll be in pain for a few days, so I added some painkiller to his prescription.”

“Thank you,” Zia said, heaving a sigh of relief. Owen would be scared, but he deserved that much for what he did to her. All she cared about was that he wasn’t going to die.

Dr. Volkov sighed. “Lev doesn’t look too happy about him being here.”

Was it so bad that he noticed despite having arrived only thirty minutes ago? She stroked her robe. “Well, he’s within his right to be upset.”

“I don’t know what is going on between you two, but don’t make it a habit to go against him, especially in front of his men. It’ll only make him look weak to them.” Without another word, the doctor picked up his briefcase and walked out of the room.

Zia remained in the same spot he’d left her for a couple of minutes. She tried to process what Dr. Volkov had just said. She’d taken Lev’s prisoner against his will and defied him in front of his men; was that the reason he’d been glaring at her so quietly?

Her shoulders sagged, heavy with a weight she hadn’t noticed she carried until now. Lev wasn’t to be blamed—she knew that much. A normal man would have reported Owen to the police and had him pay for his crimes, but Lev wasn’t a normal man. He was part of the Bratva, and that made him different. That made his idea of just punishment different.

She was wrong, but she couldn’t accept it. She couldn’t apologize when she was struggling herself. She didn’t fit into this world with the cruelty and brutality that surrounded it.

Glancing at Owen one last time, she opened the door and left the room.

Her eyes met dark ones as Lev stood at the other end of the hall, nodding to something Dr. Volkov was telling him.

Dr. Volkov turned around, nodded at her, and walked away.

Lev’s eyes bore into hers. She almost stepped forward to talk to him, not knowing what to say but knowing she had to say something to curb the tension rising between them. But Lev walked away before she could.

He was mad at her because she’d defended a man who tried to hurt her. God, she was fucking weak and stupid. She had to do better if she wanted this thing between them to work.

Owen’s cough caught her attention. He was sitting on the edge of the bed when she went inside the room.

“You’re awake,” she said, leaving the door open just in case she needed to run. She recognized the look in his eyes as murderous and hateful. She’d saved him from her husband, but the reason that happened to him was because of her. Because of what he’d tried to do to her.

She hadn’t forgotten the fear that had coursed through that afternoon. If Konstantin had come in any later, he would have forced himself on her. He would have hurt her.

“You must feel good about yourself,” he said with a smirk. “How did you get a man like him to marry you? Surely, he doesn’t love you or think of you as anything special.”

Her chest rose, every breath strained with anger. “Insult me and my husband one more time, and I will make you regret it.”

He horse-laughed. His wounds hadn’t even healed yet, but he was already taunting her. He didn’t even feel sorry for what he did.

Zia wondered if she should have let him die. In the end, she’d disrespected Lev for an imbecile like him.

“You’ll pay. You and your fucking husband,” Owen swore. “I’ll have you, and he’ll watch.”

If he was trying to get a rise out of her, it was working. Her gut burned with fury. “This is my home, Owen. You will not insult and threaten me in my own home.” She paused and inhaled. “I’ll get a guard to see you out. Don’t ever show up in front of me and my husband again, or I’ll kill you myself.”

“Are you threatening me?” he asked, disbelief flashing in his eyes.

“Yes, I am.” And she meant every bit of it.