The Bratva’s Bounty (Volkov Bratva #3)

Prologue Nicole

"You stole my own company from me!?"

The real slap to the face was the fact that it wasn't something recent. My own parents stole my company from right under my nose! I only found out about the change in ownership today—a whole year after it happened—because the receptionist today was a new hire who didn't know the protocol for me and let it all out of the bag.

Needless to say, I was royally pissed.

Never before have I wanted to strangle my father so much until now. "We never intended it to be yours in the first place, but we needed you to start it. So what if we omitted a huge part of it, doesn't matter. You know that women don't own things. Besides, we have something else planned for you." It hurt me how unkind and cold he was towards me, and the fact my mother stared at me with the same dead eyes made the feeling of betrayal tear at my very being.

"I'll get a damn lawyer. I never signed those damn papers, and I know that for a fact. I'm taking my company back and screwing you all over." Scoffing, I threw my hand out in a slashing motion. "I'm done. I'm so done with you and our family." Disbelief burned through my veins as my mind processed everything. "Twenty-six years I gave my damn life to you, to run with as you will, played the good daughter for your petty affections." I snapped with a seething scowl. "No more, I'm done."

I should have done this long ago: cut myself from my parents. Now that I think about it, I was so stupid for letting myself become complacent with them and the cushy life they gave me.

Before I could fully leave, after turning around, the two guards at the door grabbed my arms and held me down to the ground on my knees. "Let me go! What is the meaning of this?" No, really, what the fuck was going on?

Wait, what if this was some fucked up dream? It had to be, right? There's no way any of this was real. My company couldn't have disappeared like that, going right into my lazy brother's hands so he could live a good life on my hard work and tears. My parents weren't being heartless bastards right now. No way was I being manhandled by my own bodyguards, who I hired on my dime.

As he spoke to my guards, my father paid no attention to my insistent demands to be released. "Make sure she doesn't get scuffed up too much, he's expecting her to be as unscathed as possible. The plane will leave in thirty minutes, so I suggest you hurry along. Bags are packed and by the door." Okay, now I was utterly confused because I had made no plans to travel anywhere or meet anyone for anything.

"Yes, sir." Just like my father, the two guards ignored my struggle and spiteful words as they dragged me out of the house and threw me into the back of an SUV.

"I need to pee."

Okay, saying it out loud sounded stupid.

"Too bad, hold it, or piss your pants." Okay, and that was rude.

"Fine, I'll just piss on you then, and when my parents ask why I'm in the unruly state I am, I'll tell them that you refused to give me basic accommodations. They're not going to be happy with sending me to my new husband covered in piss." I kept blabbering on and on about how they'd regret this, and how badly my parents would react, the repercussions, just anything to get them to stop this damn car so I could escape. "Ugh, now I need to throw up too. Seriously, I thought I was a bad driver, but you swerve so much." Faking a sick groan, I dry heaved and forced myself to gag, with the added effect of leaning over to the guard next to me to further up my antics.

"God damn it, just fucking pull over, man. I ain't sitting in a car full of piss and vomit. Just let the stupid priss piss and throw up on the side of the road real quick." The guard next to me groaned with a scrunched-up face as he tried his best to lean away from me as I kept leaning more and more toward him to press the severity of everything.

Plan B hung at the back of my mind, but one glance at the tachometer quickly changed my mind because crashing a car going 90 mph sounded like a certain death. As much as I wanted not to live this life, dying was not particularly high on my list right now. I wanted to leave my current life, as in the life of Nicole Le, the obedient and prestigious daughter of business tycoons Mark and Martha Le. If I were more pliant, I'd let them twist and bend my life as they will, but no, I'm done.

Years of being the perfect daughter for them was all for naught. If they thought I'd sit back and let them dictate my life any further, then they were mistaken. I am done. All I've worked for, all I've built, everything, gone. Everything, gone to my stupid, pathetic brother who can't even wipe his own ass without whining for mommy—oh, he's twenty, by the way, not two. Them signing everything I had ever done and owned to my younger brother was the straw that broke the camel's back, along with this stupid arranged marriage to some business Mongol as a means to create ties and shit.

I refuse to be their pawn any longer. Twenty-six years, that's how much I gave them of my life. Now, it was time for me to live my own life, and that starts today.

Steeling my nerves, I mentally psyched myself up for the stupid, and potentially deadly, escape plan I hatched.

The car slowed but showed no indication of coming to a full stop, so I faked another gag and slumped myself over against the guard next to me. "Fucking hell, man! Pull the fuck over before I throw her out!" he exclaimed with a paling face of his own as he lightly shoved me .

Groaning weakly, I pressed myself against him and heaved again as the car slowed down more to around 60 MPH. Then, I sprang into action.

Throwing my elbow back, I jammed it as hard as I could into guard one's gut, winding and stunning him enough to grab his gun from his holster. Flicking the safety off, I pulled the trigger with a surprised squeal when the recoil and sound hit me.

I don't know how many shots I let off, too lost in my own shock to count. All I knew was that the man stopped moving after a few bangs. If I wasn't sick before, the thought of possibly killing someone definitely got my stomach churning properly. I barely managed to keep myself together enough to whip the gun at the guard in the passenger seat, catching him on the temple hard enough to cause bleeding.

After a few whacks to him in the swerving car, I reached one hand out, grabbed the shift handle, and started to yank it up and down like some joystick. The vehicle jerked and skidded out of control the more I fucked around with the shift stick, and the poor driver couldn't stop me soon enough with how he had to focus on regaining control of the car.

Then, as a final 'fuck you' to this whole situation, and possibly my life, I reached over and grabbed the steering wheel, jerking it around like some child playing on a toy wheel.

The car didn't swerve around for long, though, mainly because it was forced to stop by some cars crashing into it.

And this was the point where I regretted this plan because being hit multiple times jarred my body around like a pinball in a machine. Even though I managed to brace myself, my body stood nothing against physics. So, at this point, I just hoped to stay conscious enough after the fact to escape.

Thankfully, my head didn't snap off my neck after the car came to a stop right after slamming into another vehicle. Actually, I was thankful that a semi-truck didn't hit us because I sure as hell didn't pay attention to what other cars were on the road. Nor did I care because all I wanted to do was cause mayhem to cover my escape.

Turning my head over to the driver, who was still conscious, I threw up all over his lap before stumbling over to the rear passenger door and throwing it open. Well, there wasn't much throwing because the door practically flew open against my body weight, causing me to fall out of it rather ungracefully.

Landing with a pained grunt, I struggled up to my feet, staggering with every step as the world around me blurred in and out of focus and spun like a wheel.

I need to get a grip.

With only one goal in mind, I pushed myself through the forming crowd despite being dazed. As I staggered through to the nearest functioning vehicle, my head occasionally whipped back to see if any of the bodyguards—or anyone in general—was going after me.

Shit out of luck, on one of the occasions I did look back, I noticed the guard who I whacked in the head stand out from the concerned crowd as he made his way toward me with a very heavy scowl. He shouted something at me, but I couldn't make anything out over the ringing in my ears. Then, I really didn't pay him much attention after I saw him pull his piece out at me.

Thank fucking God! Sweet Jesus, I love you so much right now!

My head spun more from the wave of relief when I threw open the first car door and saw that it was idling. With a silent apology, I slipped inside, locked the doors, and floored it after throwing it into drive. Now, I didn't feel sorry one bit for hitting the bodyguard—he hit the car with his body! But I did feel guilty about the innocent bystanders, though; I really did try to avoid them, but I was basically driving drunk in my current state. Hell, I shouldn't be behind a kiddie car, but I had to get myself to safety.

Only problem now: where the fuck to go. I needed to get to Angel, but how? The hospital she worked at was a safe way to get to her, but it also put me out in the open for my parents to come by and snatch me up again. Angel might be willing to help me, but making a bad scene in public was too risky for her.

Wait, actually, the safest way to get to her would be through her new home. If I could make it onto the property, then I would be golden. That is if I even remember how to get to her new home.

Fucking hell, and I didn't have my phone on me either to call her.

Whelp, here's to hoping my gut could lead me right for once in my life.