Bratva Dark Allegiance: The Complete Collection

by Raven Scott

  As bitter as it made me, at least I understood why Igra kept his mouth shut. Stroking the sharp line of his jaw with my thumb, I frowned under furrowed brows.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, Igra winced as he jerked his head away and I cupped his cheek. The doctor paused cleaning him up, and I pressed my forehead against his temple to hold the other side of his face in my palm. A big, calloused hand reached over my hip to grab the back of my thigh, and his heart hammered through his skin against my forearm. “Fuck…” Slurring heavily, Igra’s jaw ticked against my palm as he struggled to sit up.

  Helping him stay steady, I turned his face to mine and his unfocused eye darted around before eventually settling on me. He frowned lopsidedly and it was painfully obvious that he’d broken a good portion of the right side of his face. “You—okay?”

  “The doctor’s going to fix your eye, Igra. Just lay back down. It’s okay.” I pushed on Igra’s chest.

  He covered my hand with his. Shallow gashes strafed his chin and lips, but he didn’t seem to notice as he brought my fingers up to kiss the pads.

  “Igra, just—let me do it.”

  “I’ll take all the pain you inflict until you’re satisfied….” His mumble continued.

  I couldn’t understand even though I knew what he was talking about. Reaching out with my free hand, I sucked in a meager breath to try to steady myself. Gingerly wiping away the sticky, half-crusted blood that stained his skin, I winced when he winced. All the while, Igra held my fingers to his mouth, and he continued to murmur noiselessly against them.

  “Does—is he alright?” Turning to the doctor, relief surged through me when he nodded gracefully, pushing up his glasses. “Good.”

  “He’s probably got a mild concussion, but now that he’s awake, we can see exactly how extensive it is. I’m sure this isn’t something he has no experience with.” The doctor’s aged voice eased the pressure on my chest almost as much as his words. “What about you? Are you all right, physically?”

  “Physically—yeah. I’m just a little sore where Erik grabbed me.” My mind shied from the memories that bubbled up from its dark depths. Shaking my head, I cleared my throat roughly when it threatened to close. “Thank you for asking, though.”

  “Your parents were my friends. I tried to warn them, but you probably know better than I do that your father was a stubborn mule.” I grimaced and ducked my head to hide it, but he saw it anyway. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not much, but they’re missed, even if only by me.”

  “What happened? Do you know?” The question just slipped out of me before I could stop it, and I gingerly wiped Igra’s brow.

  His head flopped back a bit, and his eye started to turn purple and balloon with blood.

  Even that was easier to contemplate than my parents.

  The doctor sighed heavily. “They were vocal about their disgust for Aleksander, and they cared about their patients. Neither of those are necessarily dangerous views, but we do what we’re told. Nothing more, nothing less. I warned them not to go against Aleksander and only do what was asked, but—they drew a line with Malda.”

  “Malda? What about her?” Glancing up, interest lilted my tone.

  “They were supposed to kill her. You didn’t know about that? After they fixed her, Aleksander decided he didn’t want her around anymore because his little brother was being—annoying. They refused, and—well—I’m sure you don’t want me to elaborate. I warned them not to, but your mother was adamant. I assume she made some connection to you. They were good people, Yelene.”

  My heart throbbed and tiny tears pricked my eyes. “Yeah.” Sniffling harshly, I turned my focus to Igra when he slumped against my chest. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

  “Whether or not it’s a good thing has yet to be determined, but for now, take time to mourn and appreciate. I’m going to go get some ice.”

  Now, we were alone, and I shuffled to the top of the bed to hold him against me. Pushing his hair back, I sniffled heavily as I stared at his ruined face. “Oh—Igra.” Whimpering pathetically, I ducked my head to press my cheek against his forehead. Goosebumps blanketed my body and I hummed as he reached to scratch my crown tenderly.

  “I didn’t make it in time,” mumbling, Igra groaned every time he breathed. “I’m—sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Are you okay, Igra?” I immediately felt stupid asking the question. After all, Igra had killed his own brother and took quite a beating himself. “Do you need some water?”

  “It’ll be worse tomorrow.”

  I couldn’t help but smile a little at his grumble.

  He sighed heavily through busted lips. “Stay with me, malen’kaya ptitsa.”

  I held my breath and pulled back.

  Igra cracked open his good eye to dazedly find my face. He smiled lightly.

  I wiped his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. The skin had broken as blood dribbled down and towards his ear.

  “I should’ve told you.”

  So, he was managing to pay attention. A thin smile tilted my lips.

  He pushed down on my crown. Pressing his lips to my forehead, he kneaded his fingers deep into my hair. “I can’t expect you to forgive me, but I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your parents. If we had more time….”

  “I understand.” I nuzzled his cheek before sitting back.

  Igra very gingerly scooched up with a pained, sharp breath. He nestled his head between my breasts.

  His weight felt heavy but comfortable against me. “Oh…” I actually kind of liked his warmth and how heavy he was; whatever drugs he was on really worked.

  “You understand, but you don’t have to forgive me. Yeah….” Trailing off, he hissed while he blinked.

  I reached to grab the wet, bloodied cloths off the nightstand.

  “I don’t like this,” he grumbled. “You’re supposed to sit on me—not the other way around.”

  15

  Yelene

  Being as quiet as possible, I climbed off the bed to stare at his unconscious, puffy face. His nose hadn’t bruised too bad, but his eye looked awful. Swollen bright red and blue, and his skin looked shiny. Sweat beaded his forehead.

  My chest tightened as worry lodged in my heart. I pulled my shirt down and my jeans up before shuffling out of the bedroom. My palms sweated when I grabbed the door handle, and I closed my eyes briefly to steady myself. Fear wormed through my veins at seeing Ophelia again. Disgust roiled my stomach and I poked my head into the hallway.

  The silence was eerie as I walked over to my bedroom one door away.

  Shutting myself in my room, I slumped heavily against the door and wheezed out a breath. “Okay.”

  Pulling my top off, I shivered as images closed in on the edges of my vision. Stripping my pants and underwear, I kicked the pile to the door before walking to the dresser. The large mirror bolted to the wall on the large, solid mahogany bureau only seemed to highlight all the ugliness about me.

  Dark circles made my eyes look so sunken and I reached to touch my face. Fingertip sized bruises circled my chin and close to my jaw from where Erik had grabbed my face. Reaching to cup my breasts, I winced at the sharp throbbing radiating from my nipples. Twisting to view my butt, I scowled at the scratch marks cut shallowly up my cheek and lower back.

  “It hurts…” my confession echoed in my quiet bedroom, and I turned away from the mirror to cross my arms under my bust. Glancing down at my feet, I flexed my toes against the plush carpet. “At least, I didn’t lose a toenail.”

  The door to my room flung open and I jumped as the hairs on the back of my neck bristled wildly.

  Igra clutched his left side, panting heavily, so pale that he glowed.

  I rushed to grab him when he stumbled sideways. “Igra! What are you doing?” Alarm heightened my tone.

  He wrapped his arms around my shoulders to lean close to my face. “I was worried about you. I need you to help me stab my eye.”

  My eyes widened as Igra pointed to his
busted eye.

  “I can’t see.”

  “B-but the doctor said ice—”

  He cut me off with a hand over my mouth.

  I gulped down the dense lump in my throat. Slowly nodding, cautiously, I inhaled a shaky breath through my nose.

  Igra grabbed my hand to lead me the opposite way from the stairs.

  “Igra, are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “It’s fine. I do it every time,” grumbling, Igra pushed open the bathroom door heavily.

  I flicked on the lights. Wincing at the sudden brightness, I blinked hard while he reached into his pants pocket to pull out a switchblade. “There’s alcohol under the sink.”

  “Okay. Yeah.” I ducked under the vanity, and he was on his elbows on the countertop when I emerged. “What now?”

  “Dump it on this.” His hands shook when he held out the knife.

  I popped the cap of the bottle to drench the blade in alcohol. The clear liquid swirled down the sink.

  He leaned in close to the mirror to gingerly prod his upper cheek and eye. “The doctor can kiss my ass.”

  “I’m not sure I can…” Trailing off, I frowned at the knife.

  Igra reached to grab my hand. His own trembled too much as he growled deep in his throat as he shuffled closer to me.

  My heart clogged my throat and I struggled not to squeeze my eyes shut and shy away.

  “You can, Yelene.”

  Whimpering pathetically as Igra held the knife tip just under his eye, I shuddered when blood dribbled down the blade. A horrifying amount of blood gushed down his face, and he dragged the blade in my hand along the bulge of his bruise. He didn’t make a single sound but grinding his teeth, and I couldn’t breathe until he was done.

  The swollen, shiny boil deflated quickly, and I exhaled a rattling breath through my teeth. Dropping the knife into the sink, I slumped back against the wall. I clutched my chest to stop my heart bursting through.

  He hung his head over the sink. Turning on the faucet, he splashed his face. “Thanks, malen’kaya ptitsa.” Water and blood dripped down Igra’s nose, but he could see and blink. Tenderness tilted his lips up and brightened the bloodshot lines in his eyes. “Why’d you leave?”

  “Oh—Well, I wanted to change…” I shuddered when I realized I was still naked, and I looked down at myself.

  Igra grimaced before his eyes wandered too far, turning to the mirror before fishing out a lighter from his pocket.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped.

  “I’m going to cauterize it.”

  My jaw slackened in surprise.

  Igra slowly put the lighter back into his pocket with a defeated sigh. “Fine—No hot knife.”

  “No fire. You feel better?” The pressure on my lungs eased when Igra nodded. “Good.”

  I tensed when Igra closed the short distance between us. His thick arm hair brushed my abdomen, and my vision blurred when he leaned close to my face. My heart raced, blood drumming so loud in my ears that I feared he would hear it too. Holding my breath, goosebumps washed my arms and across my chest.

  “It’s over for now, Yelene.”

  His growly whisper rose the fine hairs on my cheeks and I nodded a bare tilt of my head.

  Very gingerly caressing my neck and up my jaw, Igra braced his forearm above my head as he cupped my chin. “You can hate me all you want.”

  I could smell the blood dripping from the cut under his eye, but those dark orbs of his flashed so brightly and distracted me. “I-I don’t hate you, Igra.” I gulped down invisible cotton as his head bopped dangerously. “Let’s go back before you fall over.”

  His eyelids fluttered, gaze unfocused for a brief fraction of a second, and he sucked in a shallow, loud breath through his swollen nose. “You’re my wife. Even if—it’s my duty to protect you. I had no right choice. I couldn’t take Erik and Aleks. Ophelia—that bitch…”

  The sudden drop in temperature sent prickles down my spine.

  Igra’s race twisted menacingly as betrayal and irritation mingled explosively in his eyes. “Run away with me, malen’kaya ptitsa. I can provide for you. I can keep you s- safe. Y— you’re-re my w-wifff—” His eyes rolled dangerously, and Igra crashed to his knees to twitch and spasm lightly.

  “I-Igra! Igra!” Panic slammed into my gu, and I tumbled to the floor to hold his head. His fit only lasted a second, maybe, so quickly over that I hoped I had imagined it before the pounding of feet reminded me of my shriek. Cradling his head, I wiped his face with my thumb.

  The doctor and Sascha skidded to a stop in the doorway.

  “Yelene, are you okay? What happened?” Sascha asked.

  His concussion is making him act weird. A pang ripped through my chest at my own rationale and I sniffled hard.

  Sascha helped pick Igra’s limp body off the floor. “Come on. Let me help you up.”

  “I-I don’t know—he just slurred a little and—he just fell.” Would I even know what was normal for Igra to say or not? Worry replaced the blood in my veins and I took Sascha’s outstretched hand to stand up.

  He frowned, holding Igra up with the doctor on the other side.

  I took a trembling breath. “I’m— I’m okay. Yeah. I went to change my clothes, and he asked for help with his eye, and…”

  “Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll come check on you after I put Igra down?”

  Hesitation stiffened my neck, but I nodded slowly before Sascha and the nameless man in a white coat dragged Igra down the hall.

  Watching his bare feet lifelessly skim the carpet, I hugged myself to keep my emotions from bubbling out.

  Walking back to my room on heavy feet, I sniffled hard as an intense wave of conflicting emotions slammed into me. As stupid as it was, Aleksander was dead—why was it more difficult than before? His body wasn’t even cool yet, and maybe no one but us five knew he was dead—so why did I feel worse than a few hours ago?

  Standing in front of the mirror again, I grimaced at how ugly I was. Maybe, less so on the outside, but inside—I was disgusting and complacent and no one ever noticed me. You’re a follower. Embrace it. Ophelia’s words echoed in the room and I ground my teeth hard. Was that why Igra asked me to run away with him? Because I was a follower, and he was someone to follow? I would never allow Ophelia to do anything for me ever again, so he was a best second?

  “My whole life is a series of decisions being made for me—not by me.” My voice scratched my throat, and I tore my eyes off my reflection as disgust roiled my stomach. Asking me here was a courtesy— the illusion of choice— and Ophelia had done nothing but lie to me. Was I even her friend? She’d said so, but was she telling the truth or just manipulating me more? Did she even know what the difference was anymore?

  “Knock, knock.” Poking his head into the room, Sascha smiled warmly at me.

  I pulled open a drawer filled with loose, long shirts. My thoughts quieted, and I pursed my lips thinly. Scrambling into the shirt, I pulled down the hem that nearly reached my knees before turning to Sascha. “Did you know my parents were dead a long time ago?” I climbed onto my bed.

  Sascha’s brows twitched, his dark orbs brightening in surprise before he shook his head quietly. He sat on the corner to run his hand through his hair roughly. “I had a suspicion—considering my own history with Aleksander and his father, it wouldn’t surprise me. I was never explicitly told, though. I would’ve advocated telling you the truth if I had known. I understand that Ophelia deserved your slap, even if I don’t like it.” Sascha smiled comfortingly, reached to grab my ankle and squeeze gingerly. “You’re a good girl, Yelene, despite all the bad around you.”

  “I don’t feel good. I feel like I could sleep forever.”

  His smile faltered at my confession.

  I laid down on my side to still face him. “She lied…and I know she won’t apologize for it.”

  “Ophelia is—she’s got her reasons, but no, I doubt she’ll apologize. To her, the means justified th
e end. Aleksander is dead and how she achieved it doesn’t matter. Her willingness to go as hard as she has to is one of the reasons I love her, but I know it hurts people all the same.”

  Sniffling harshly at that, I closed my eyes and didn’t have the energy to open them again.

  Sascha leaned over, the bed dipping under his weight, to stroke my face and hair. “It’ll be okay. I’ll watch over you, Yelene.”

  16

  Igra

  Hissing at the sharp pain that engulfed my face, I swatted away the doctor’s hands.

  He shot me an irritated look. Tilting my chin, he dabbed my eye with obvious displeasure and more forcibly than he should have. “Stop being a baby, Igra.”

  Scowling darkly at that, I clenched my jaw hard, and my knees bounced wildly. Reaching to touch where Yelene had stabbed me, I squeezed my uninjured eye shut.

  “Your leg hurts?”

  “Not at all.” Yelene’s stab was a flesh wound and I pushed down on it gingerly to feel nothing but numbness. “Is that a good thing?”

  “The numbness should go away when your body is done attacking Erik’s blood.” His stern look was almost a glare.

  I stood up to walk over to the mirror.

  “You’re lucky Erik was paranoid about diseases, Igra.”

  “The way he treated Yelene, I’m surprised he didn’t fuck anything without care.” My tone darkened at my own words and I leaned close to my reflection; my eye was bruised, still swollen but not forced shut. “I wasn’t fast enough.”

  “Don’t be stupid. You could’ve died from that kick to the head. You’re lucky you got to her at all and she certainly doesn’t seem to blame you. If you weren’t so damn hardheaded…”

  Stitch ends poked out of my skin, but it’d heal eventually. Turning to the doctor as he trailed off, I scoffed when he shook his head. Leaving the room, I headed for Yelene’s bedroom. Scratching my head, I grabbed the handle to popped open the door.