Page 18 of Forced By the Bratva King

“Decades?” I asked, raising my brows in disbelief.

She walked back to the table. “Don’t overthink it. It’s not that bad.” Irina picked up the tray and returned to the bed where I was standing. “I’m serving you breakfast. Eat.”

“How can you serve monsters?” I asked, unable to understand how such a sweet soul would last this long working for these heartless human beings.

“Monsters? No,” she replied, glancing at the plates in the tray. “These are lobsters, not monsters. Here, try one.” She passed me a dish.

I cast her a disbelieving look at her joke. “Very funny, Irina.”

She laughed lightly. “Just trying to help you loosen up a little.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, managing to squeeze out a smile. “But how do you expect me to loosen up when this…Tarasov man kidnapped me and is planning God-knows-what?”

“I understand how you feel. I really do. But right now, there really isn’t much that you can do about your situation,” she replied, reaching out to hold my hand.

Her touch had the effect of a mother’s, and in her eyes, I saw sympathy. She clearly didn’t approve of this, but just like me, there wasn't much she could do about the situation.

“How did you end up working for these monsters, Irina?” I asked, my voice a little higher than a whisper.

“They aren’t really monsters, my child,” she said. “If they were, I wouldn’t be standing here today.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, curious to hear her story.

“I owe them my life and also the lives of my children.” She sat down on the bed, tapping the space next to her.

I did the same, and she continued. “My husband had a gambling problem, and he owed some really powerful men a huge amount of money. He couldn’t pay up, and when it was time, he ran away, leaving me and the kids at the mercy of themen he owed—the real monsters.” Tears welled her eyes as she spoke, but Irina fought them back. “At the time, I didn’t know about his debt, so when they came looking for him, and he wasn’t home, they found me at my shop and threatened to kill me and my children if I didn’t call him out. I didn’t know then that the coward had run away.”

I placed a consoling palm on her hand; it seemed like she survived what must have been a traumatic experience.

“Long story short, Artem Tarasov happened to stop by my shop that day, and he witnessed the whole thing. If he hadn’t stepped in, they would have killed me and my children.” She looked at me. “You see, the man you call a monster, my children and I call a hero.”

“So, he forced you to serve him after that, didn’t he?” I asked.

“As good as that might sound in your ears, it’s not true. I chose to work for his family of my own free will.”

“You think you owe them your life, but I think a couple of decades serving them should have paid off your debt,” I insisted. “Yet, here you are.”

“My loyalty to the Tarasov Bratva goes beyond what happened years ago. I’ve learned to love them, and I’d choose to work for them over and over again.”

I couldn’t understand her ridiculous loyalty, and my brows furrowed. “But they’re monsters.”

“Not all the time, they’re not,” she said. “Only when absolutely necessary. Most times, they’re only cruel to their enemies.” She sighed.

I glared at her. “But he’s cruel to me, so I guess that makes me an enemy.”

Irina pinched the bridge of her nose and changed the subject. “Just eat something. I know you’re hungry.”

“No, I won’t.” I folded my arms across my chest.

She was about to respond when the door opened, and he walked in, his presence prompting me to rise to my feet. Irina had said that he wasn’t a monster, but the man menacingly walking toward me seemed a lot like one. His impeccable suit and the rich scent of his cologne might have masked the monster’s skin, but I knew what I knew, and I was fucking afraid.

As he walked toward me, I took gentle steps backward, my heart racing faster than a galloping horse. He wouldn’t tear his gaze off me, and the look in his eyes was threatening. One more step backward, my back connected with the wall, and my shoulders scrunched up as he stood in front of me.

“Do you want to live?” he asked, his voice bold and husky.

I was terrified, and instantly, tears began to burn my eyes. Of course, I wanted to live; why would he ask me that? Did he plan on killing me?

“I’ll ask you one last time,” he said. “Do you want to live?”