Given to Madness: A Dark Romance

by Winter Fox

  It was over quickly. Which was my only saving grace, because I was unsure how long I could survive him. When he suddenly stiffened, before coming inside me, I pressed my head deeper into the bedclothes, and allowed silent tears to fall down my cheeks.

  Afterward, he stayed inside me for a moment, panting heavily. His warm breath tickling against the back of my neck made my skin crawl, and I wished desperately for him to leave. Just leave.

  He suddenly pulled back from me so violently that I leaped to my knees in shock—moaning at the ache between my thighs as I did. My eyes met his, and I was shocked to see that the demonic gaze of earlier was completely gone. His eyes were still black, depthless pools, but they held emotion.

  They held remorse.

  “Baby, I am so sorry,” he whispered huskily. His sorrowful eyes taking in my disheveled appearance, as though seeing me for the first time.

  He reached out to me with his hand, and I lashed out with my arm, batting him away. “Don’t touch me,” I shrieked.

  He shook his head back and forth, then tried to reach out toward me again; speaking quickly. “Liselle? I didn’t mean to do it. You don’t understand what torture and killing does to me.”

  I kicked myself up the bed, and away from him. “I understand perfectly what they do to you, Ilya. You’re exactly the same as Mariusz. No. You’re worse, because you pretended to be better.”

  He started up the bed toward me, and I dragged the bedding over my naked bottom half. I didn’t want him to see my body for a second longer.

  “If you come one inch closer to me, I will attack you with everything I have, Ilya. I will keep coming at you; until there’s no other choice but for you to kill me to stop it.”

  He froze then. Looking at me as he deliberated his options, and I understood that he knew his demons weren’t fully under control. He knew that he was still capable of killing me. He slid from the bed, standing up and quietly pulling his jeans back on.

  Then turning toward a chair in the corner of the room, he padded over and took a seat. I narrowed my eyes at him venomously. “I don’t want you in here. I want you to go,” I hissed.

  His eyes were wide with shock, and sorrow. “I’m not going to leave you alone tonight.”

  I laughed hysterically. “Let me guess. In case they come and hurt me.” I gestured toward the door as I spoke.

  He nodded. “I won’t lay a hand on you, milaya. I swear. I’m just here to protect you while you sleep.”

  Even after everything, I knew that I was safer with Ilya here, than not. The fear of Mariusz, Sava, and the others was still very real, and I had no fight left in me tonight. I met his black gaze, and glared at him. “If you come near me Ilya, one of us will die.”

  As I curled up beneath the bedding, I was struck by the sheen I had noticed in his dark eyes. Caught by the light of the moon that was pouring through the darkened window.

  If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that the silvery shine had been tears.

  29

  Ilya

  As he sat in the chair, and watched her small form huddled beneath the blankets, he knew that he would regret what he had done to her more than anything else he had ever done in his miserable, worthless life. She would never forgive him, and he wouldn’t expect her to.

  It was clear to him now that Mariusz’s sole intention had been to cause a rift between Ilya and Liselle, and he had executed his plan exquisitely. As Ilya sat in the cold moonlight, and contemplated Mariusz’s actions, he realized that the man must have seen much more than he had let on when he had walked in on Ilya in bed with the girl.

  Mariusz had seen her willingness to sleep with his Lieutenant, and he resented it because he had had to steal the same experience from her, while Ilya held her down. Now he thought about it, Ilya realized that the fact she had given herself to him—even after he had helped Mariusz to rape her—must have driven Mariusz crazy with jealousy.

  For as long as they were both trapped in this house, Mariusz would keep chipping away at them both; turning them against each other. If it was even possible to make Liselle hate him any more than she already did.

  He had to get her out of here, and he was pretty sure she wouldn’t let him help her now. She had been right, he’d ruined more than just the trust between them.

  He almost smiled as he thought of the way their relationship had evolved since he first met the cold, straight-backed little Marchesi heiress which he had been sent to collect. Of course, it had been an act. She wasn’t at all cold. She was soft, and warm, and willing. She was beautiful, and strong.

  She was perfect.

  And he had just ruined her a little bit more. He ground his clenched fists into his thick thighs, trying to quell the rage which threatened to raise his demons once more.

  A sudden realization dawned on Ilya, and he pulled his cell from his pocket. Scrolling through the calls until he came to the unsaved number in his dialed numbers list.

  Alessio.

  He would call her brother, and continue to make the arrangements for her escape. He could carry on trying to somehow find her forgiveness for what he had done while he laid his plans. But he couldn’t rely on her coming back from this.

  He could only hope that Alessio would talk to him, and that the Italian would be able to find a way to trust him. If he wanted to keep his sister safe, then it was his only option. Ilya just needed to make sure the other man truly understood that.

  Ilya tapped his cellphone against his chin, wondering if he could leave her alone for long enough to make the call. He looked from the bed to the door, anxiously trying to decide what to do.

  In the end he decided that he needed to know if Alessio would be able to trust the Lieutenant. Otherwise Ilya would need to think of another plan entirely.

  Standing, Ilya swiftly opened the door, and slipped into the hallway. He figured he would go to another guest room a little further along the hall, meaning that at least he wouldn’t be too far away if she needed him. Choosing a door at random, Ilya found himself in a small room with a large window which overlooked the orchards outside.

  He didn’t allow himself time to hesitate—fearing that he might change his mind if he did. Hitting the call button, he lifted the phone to his ear, and tensely waited out the ring.

  “Liss? What’s wrong?”

  Liss? Did she prefer that name above Liselle?

  “No. It’s not your sister.” Ilya frantically wished that he’d thought through what he was going to say before he called.

  There was a tiny pause, and then, “What the fuck have you done to my sister, you motherfucking piece of shit?”

  Ilya grimaced. The Marchesi’s were all clearly born with fire in them. “Your sister is fine, friend.” That wasn’t technically true. But she would be fine. Ilya would die to ensure it became true.

  “I’m not your friend. Which one of you fuckers am I talking to?” Alessio’s voice was rough, and Ilya knew that he was equally as afraid as he was angry.

  Now wasn’t the time for a lie, Ilya decided. He spoke calmly, hoping his projected mood would rub off on Alessio. “You’re speaking with the one they call the Lieutenant.”

  Silence.

  Then, “Have you hurt my sister? Because if you have, I swear I will rain fire and death down on every single one of you cunts. Where is she? I want to talk to her.”

  Ilya almost smiled at the ferocity in Alessio’s voice. This man felt exactly the same way about Liselle as Ilya felt about his own sister. And he was glad. Glad that she was going to be able to return to a family who would help her heal from all of the horrors which she had suffered at the hands of the Russians.

  “I swear to you, Alessio, your sister is safe. She’s sleeping right now.” His eyes darted toward the door as he spoke, worrying about leaving her alone.

  “Then why are you calling me, Lieutenant?” Alessio spat the name out, as though it tasted nasty on his tongue.

  Ilya’s hackles rose. “You know, as your sister qui
te rightly pointed out, I am the only member of the Five who didn’t have a hand in murdering your family. Perhaps you should offer me a little bit of fucking respect.”

  Alessio snorted a desperate breath through the phone, and Ilya knew that he was trying to pull himself together. “She said she was okay. Why are you calling?”

  Ilya looked skyward, hoping he could talk the other man around. “I feel that she’s emotionally quite fragile right now. If she knew exactly when we were getting out, I’m concerned that Mariusz could…coerce the information from her. I think it’s safer if just you and me know the date.”

  Alessio was quiet, and Ilya knew that the other man was taking his concerns seriously. He should do—Liselle’s fragile position here could become a problem for them both.

  “What you say makes sense, that’s true. But how can you expect me to believe that you will do what’s right by my sister? Your reputation more than precedes you, Lieutenant.”

  This was the question that Ilya had been afraid of answering. He hadn’t got any idea of how to set Alessio’s mind at rest. Putting himself in the Italian’s shoes, there was no way he’d believe some scumbag with a reputation like his own. Especially not when said scumbag was one of the people imprisoning his little sister.

  But just as he was about to falter out a bullshit excuse, the truth hit Ilya like a hammer. And he knew that all he had to do was admit it.

  “Because I love her.”

  The wail of despair from Alessio, was not what Ilya had expected. He frowned in confusion, while he waited for the other man to speak.

  “Tell me that you don’t expect me to give my sister to you once this is all over, Lieutenant?”

  It was the response Ilya should have expected, and if he was completely honest with himself, he hadn’t even thought past getting himself and Liselle out.

  “No. I know that’s not possible,” he confessed.

  Especially not after what you just did to her, his mind taunted.

  “When?” Alessio’s curt question snapped Ilya out of his pained reverie.

  “What?”

  Alessio huffed. “When are you planning on getting her out of that hellhole?”

  “Two nights from now. That’s when my own family are being relocated to a hidden location. It has to happen simultaneously, or I’m not playing the game. She matters to you, and my family matter to me. I’m sure you understand, Alessio?” Ilya was back to business.

  “I understand. Do you need my help?”

  Ilya breathed out a sigh of relief. Despite his hatred, Alessio would work with his enemy—if only for his sister’s sake.

  “I’ll hand her over to you at the motel we’ll head to, just in case we’re followed. If it comes to a fight, I can hold them off while you help her to get away. You’ll need to get your brother safe first.”

  “My brother will be with his nanny. I can be there, what’s the address?”

  “I’ll text it to you. That way you won’t lose it.”

  “Okay. Two nights from now, then.” Alessio sounded a lot more relaxed than he had at the start of the call.

  “You can trust me, Alessio. I swear it.” Ilya spoke quietly.

  “I have no doubt that you love her, Lieutenant. I can hear it in your voice.”

  Ilya smiled at himself. Who knew he’d end up pussy-whipped?

  “But, Lieutenant?” Alessio’s voice cut through his musings.

  “What?”

  “If you ever come within a fifty-mile radius of my sister once she’s safely away from Mariusz, I will unload my fucking gun into you. Do you understand?”

  It hurt a lot more than he’d expected it to. “Don’t worry, big brother. In forty-eight hours, your sister will be free of us all.”

  He hung up, and quickly sent the details of the hotel to Alessio’s number. Then he hurried back to watch over the girl who had somehow become the reason for everything.

  30

  Ilya

  He sat through the night, and into the morning, only leaving her alone once he heard the noise of the others down in the kitchen. He was certain they didn’t know where Ilya and Liselle had slept last night, anyway. But now they were all eating together it was easy for Ilya to monitor the situation. He’d know if anyone left the table.

  He tried to saunter into the kitchen as though nothing was wrong, hoping to deflect any questions that the others might have been waiting to ask him.

  Anatoli was the first to speak to him, as Ilya sat down and poured himself a steaming mug of fresh coffee. “If you were done playing with the Colombian you could have passed the fun along, Lieutenant.”

  As the unofficial chief torturer of the Five, Anatoli was always going to be butthurt over Ruiz’s hasty death. But Anatoli was also the most respectful of the men, so he made the joke in a relaxed tone.

  Ilya grinned, and shrugged. “Sorry, Anatoli.”

  The other man smiled, and speared a piece of bacon; before shoving it into his mouth. “Next time can I get the first shot?”

  “Of course.”

  Mariusz was sitting in a chair at the head of the table, leaning back in a casual pose. He was sipping vodka rather than coffee, and Ilya wondered for the thousandth time why the man’s liver hadn’t failed him by now. Narrowing his eyes, the korol spoke across the table.

  “Did you manage to work out those issues last night, Lieutenant?”

  Ilya’s hand tightened on the coffee cup, as he envisioned himself smashing it open against Mariusz’s nose. He breathed deeply, reminding himself that he had to at least try and play the game. But only for two more days.

  “I haven’t damaged her, korol. Don’t worry.” He spoke dismissively.

  “Good. Because Dante will be coming to pay us a visit tomorrow, and he’s expressed an interest in Liselle. She’ll need to be in good form if he wants to borrow her tomorrow night.”

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  This wasn’t good. Liselle was in bad shape after what Ilya had done to her, and Dante was a violent motherfucker. He would hurt her way beyond what Mariusz or Ilya had. She was strong, but not that strong.

  And she shouldn’t have to be, he thought angrily. She had been through more than enough. His mind dashed frantically back and forth, trying to come up with a solution which didn’t involve leaving a day earlier than he’d planned. If they did, it could jeopardize his family’s chances at survival.

  Mariusz raised an inquisitive brow as the silence stretched out too far. Ilya needed to respond. “I’ll let her know that she needs to make sure she makes an extra effort tomorrow night, Mariusz.”

  Mariusz grinned darkly. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  Breakfast went on as usual from there, with the standard banter between Sava and Kostya, and Mariusz drinking more and more, while Ilya sat and ran every single option over inside his head. Eventually accepting that unless he wanted Dante to push Liselle over the edge completely, he had to get her out of there within the next twenty-four hours.

  He piled a plate with food for the girl, knowing that she probably wouldn’t eat any of it. Then grabbing a pot of coffee, he headed upstairs to his own bedroom. His spine tingled as he walked out of the kitchen—he could feel Mariusz’s cold, blue gaze on his back as he moved.

  He put the plate of food, and the coffee on his desk, then closed the door to his bedroom behind him. He would go and collect Liselle from the guest room shortly. But first he needed to speak to Boris.

  The man answered on the second ring. “Is everything all right, Ilya?” He asked in Russian.

  Ilya replied in his native language. “Things have changed. I need to bring the extraction forward by a day. I need you to have them out before tomorrow night. Can you do it, old friend?”

  Boris was silent for a brief moment, and Ilya was grateful that his friend was giving the request serious contemplation.

  Finally, Boris answered. “Da. I can do it.”

  Thank fuck. Ilya rolled his eyes to the ceiling in a silent prayer of thanks.


  “Thank you, my friend. I won’t forget this.”

  “Just get yourself, and your girl out safe,” Boris said gruffly.

  Ilya shook his head. “She’s not my girl. Never will be.”

  “The fuck she isn’t yours. After what you’ve done for her, she’d better marry you, Ilya.” Boris was never one for holding back.

  Smiling ruefully, Ilya replied. “I wasn’t aware I was planning on asking.”

  Boris snorted. “When you find a woman that you’re prepared to risk everything for. You marry her, stupid."

  Ilya actually laughed this time. “Thanks for the advice. Keep me updated on progress, da?”

  “Of course.”

  After he hung up, Ilya padded along the hall to the guest room where Liselle was sleeping. When he walked in, she was sitting up in the bed, looking as though she had just woken up. She scowled when she saw him.

  Ignoring the stab of guilt in his chest, he crooked a finger to her. “We need to go to my room. Breakfast is waiting for you.”

  “I’m not hungry.” He had known that was exactly what she was going to say.

  “You can’t stay in this room. You need to come with me or I can’t keep you safe,” he argued.

  “You can’t keep me safe, because you’re a fucking animal,” she hissed, folding her arms over her chest.

  He closed his eyes, fighting against the very real urge to drag her out of the bed. That kind of violence was what had gotten them here in the first place. He chose a different tactic.

  “I spoke with your brother earlier.”

  Her eyes grew wide, and round. “What did he say?”

  “I’ll tell you once we’re in my room.” He folded his own arms across his broad chest now.

  She huffed, and pointed to her trousers on the floor—where Ilya had thrown them last night. He understood, there was no way she was going to show him her naked body. Not after what he did. He didn’t blame her one bit.

  Leaning down to hook her trousers, he held them out to her. His thumb brushed against her hand as he handed them over, and she hissed as though he’d burnt her—withdrawing her hand quickly. He sighed, and turned his back to give her the privacy to dress.