“I don’t blame you for the miscarriage, Kostya.” My earlier elation dulls as the memory of that horrible night rushes back. “But it is an enormous weight from my heart to be able to tell you about it.”
“If we are lucky enough to have more children, I vow that I will protect them, and you, with my life. You will never be alone again.”
“I need more than that,” I say.
“Anything. Just ask. Everything in my bank account. Every house I own.”
“I don’t want your money. I want you to promise me that you will do your best to turn in the buyers of every single slave you’ve sold to. I know that a lot of the buyers were killed at the auction, but not all of them. And I want you to swear that you will see as many of those women freed as you can.”
“I will do it. For you. You know that it’s risky, of course.”
“But this is the least risky time ever,” I point out. “You can make anonymous calls to the feds, and to Interpol, who will be eager to track down everyone involved in the trafficking operation. And because they’ll already be investigating, the Bratva, and the buyers, won’t know where the information came from.”
He nods at that, and a determined light gleams in his eyes. “Yes. I can never make up for the harm that I’ve caused, but I can try to repair some of the damage.”
The dining room door opens, and I see Raisa standing there, and the look she is giving Kostya would freeze an ocean. It’s going to be a very rough road, with my best friend – quite justifiably - hating the man that I love. Well, Kostya, frankly, will just have to deal with it.
We spend an awkward evening together, with Raisa and Mikhail sitting together across the room from us as we watch a movie together. When they go to bed, Raisa sleeps in her own room – like the good Christian she is - and Mikhail sleeps right outside her door, on a cot in the hallway.
“She has nightmares,” he says at my questioning look. “So I like to be right there for her.”
I sleep in Kostya’s arms. Just sleep. I’m still shaky from the tranquilizer, and exhausted, and Kostya strokes my back and murmurs into my hair until I drift off. The next morning, after breakfast, Kostya tells us that we’re going for a ride.
“We need to pick up Elizaveta from the airport in a few hours, but first, I need to show you something,” he says.
We climb into a town car, driven by one of his men, who he introduces as Leonid. It’s about an hour drive, and as we get closer I feel a strange tension rising inside me. Finally I recognize where we’re headed. It’s the house where we were held prisoner. Raisa won’t recognize it,, because she would have been trapped inside a windowless vehicle of some sort, both coming and going.
When we drive through the gates, Leonid stops abruptly.
“Wow,” he says in surprise.
The house is gone. Literally, gone. There is nothing but an enormous pile of rubble. Given the cost of houses in this area, it’s probably a million dollar pile of rubble.
“That’s the house where we were he held us,” I tell Raisa.
She sucks in a breath, and grabs Mikhail’s hand. I glance over at Kostya.
“I will let you girls decide what you want built here, but I was thinking a battered women’s shelter,” Kostya says.
“Doesn’t make up for what you did to us,” Raisa snaps. Mikhail gives her a pleading look, and she sighs and relents a little. “I appreciate the gesture,” she says sullenly. “I will sleep a little better knowing that the house of my nightmares is gone.”
“Thank you for doing that for us,” I say to Kostya. “I will sleep better as well. Terrible evil was done there, and it means a lot that it no longer exists.” Yeger, Pasha, the auction building, all those buyers, and now this house...all gone. As we drive away, the clouds part, and the world is a little brighter.
Epilogue
Anya
A year and a half later
Christmas is in only two weeks, and Kostya and I are attending a baby shower for his good friend Diego and his wife Donata. Diego is some super powerful mafia bigwig, a member of something called “The Council”, and he apparently oversees operations for the entire Midwest area. Kostya does a lot of business with him.
He and Donata are expecting their third child. They’ve gone with a winter wonderland theme for the shower. White-frosted Christmas trees, tinsel, giant snowflake decorations hanging from the ceiling, and fake snow. It’s being held at the North Chicago Italian Social Club, and the food is divine.
There must be something in the water, because there’s a baby boom going on here. Raisa is expecting, and due any day. She made Mikhail wait six months before she agreed to marry him. She wanted him to prove to her that he was serious. We’re pretty sure she got pregnant on her wedding night. Mikhail jokes that with all that stored up sperm, he’s surprised she isn’t having octuplets.
As for Kostya and me – we got married a month after the auction house explosion. We live in a townhouse in the city, and never visit the suburb where I was held prisoner. Our son Anatoly, named after Kostya’s late father, is old enough to crawl. He has his father’s eyes and wicked smile.
Kostya helped to select Yeger’s replacement. The new Elder is sufficiently ruthless, but also business-minded and practical. Unlike Yeger, he does not seek out trouble, and is happy to see the Bratva, the Mafia, the Cartel, and all of the other organizations working well together.
I have mixed feelings about Kostya remaining with the Bratva, but he was born into the family and can’t imagine any other life, so I have made peace with it. He can do a lot of good in his position, helping to influence what they do, not just here, but worldwide. He’s made it clear that it would be too risky for them to ever traffic women again, and so far, they’re going along with it.
With Kostya’s help, I founded an organization to provide jobs, counseling, and free education to women who have been trafficked or who are victims of domestic abuse. Ever since Anatoly was born, I only work a couple of days a week in the office, and I do the rest of my work from home.
Right now, Kostya is standing next to Diego and holding Anatoly, playing peek-a-boo. The scariest man I’ve ever met, and he’s playing a child’s game. Anatoly is screaming – with laughter. Diego grins at them. These vicious, terrifying men turn into soft-hearted fools for their children.
A sharp poke in the rib distracts me. It’s Elizaveta, adorable in her blue silk gown, pouting at me.
“You still haven’t told me what you want, and Christmas is right around the corner!” Elizaveta exclaims. “And if you tell me again that you want for nothing, I’m going to dump my egg nog on your head.” She waves her glass at me threateningly.
I look at her suspiciously. “That’s the non-alcoholic stuff, right?”
“Yes, mom,” she says, rolling her eyes. And then a look of sorrow crosses her face briefly. She misses her mother. She has a lot to distract her – she’s enrolled in a private high school for the arts and sciences and maintaining a 4.0 average, and we’re busy checking out colleges, but still, sometimes, she gets that haunted look on her face.
“I want a cookbook of Russian recipes,” I tell her quickly. “And you can help me. You know cooking’s not my thing, but I’d like to be able to make a few traditional dishes for our son, at least.”
“Done!” She brightens up. Kostya makes his way towards us. He goes to hand me our son, but Elizaveta expertly intercepts me. She shoves her eggnog in my hand, and takes Anatoly.
“Come to Auntie!” she croons. “Who is the most handsome man in the universe? I think it’s you!” He drools with joy. He’s a ridiculously happy baby.
“You can take him for a walk,” I say to her, setting the egg nog down on a table. She cradles him in her arms and strolls off, beaming. She’s enjoying her winter break, because she has a heavy load of classes at the private high school for the arts and sciences that we send her to.
Kostya loops his arm around me and I let him lead me away from the crowd.
&n
bsp; “So, Donata’s expecting her third baby,” he muses as he maneuvers me through a doorway that leads to a quiet hallway.
“Is that a hint?” I ask him, laughing.
“I mean, I’m just saying. I like Diego, but we can’t let those Italians beat us in the baby-making department, can we?”
“That’s hardly fair,” I protest. “They had a head start.”
“So, we’ll just have to try harder.” He moves us through another doorway, into a storage room.
“Kostya!” I gasp. “Here? Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.” He pushes me up against a wall.
“What if someone walks in?” I protest, as he slides my dress up. But my nipples swell with desire. There’s something so primal about him when he claims me. He’s so fierce, so demanding.
“They’ll walk right back out again, if they know what’s good for them.”
“But...I mean...” He kisses my neck, and I moan with pleasure. He maneuvers so he’s between my legs, and fumbles with his zipper.
“Don’t even think about trying to deny me that sweet pussy.” His fingers slide under my panties, and he strokes me. “Oh, yes. You’re already wet for me. Good girl.”
I spread my legs. “Oh God. We shouldn’t...ohhh...”
“That’s my girl.” He opens me up with his fingers. “Think of the story we’ll have to tell about how our second child was conceived.”
“If you ever tell anyone! I swear to God I’ll...ohhh...” He pumps his fingers into me, and grabs me by the hair with his free hand.
“You’ll what?” he taunts.
“I’ll...ohhh...” I gasp for breath, struggling to be mad at him and failing. He moves his hips, and suddenly the head of his cock his nudging between the folds of my pussy.
He enters me with a harsh thrust, and I gasp in pleasure. “Yes,” I hiss. “Don’t stop.”
As he pumps into me, he bends down and claims my mouth with a bruising kiss, and I moan my surrender against his lips. He takes his time, slowing down whenever my breathing speeds up, dragging out the pleasure until I’m almost crying with need. Only then does he seize me firmly by my hips and fuck me hard and fast. The heat that builds inside me sends me over the edge, and I stifle my cries of pleasure by burying my face in his chest. My inner muscles convulse, squeezing him, which makes him come.
He groans in pleasure, a pure animal sound, and I feel him filling me up with hot spurts of his seed.
“To the ends of the Earth,” he pants. “I would follow you to the ends of the Earth, my Anya.” That’s our thing now, it’s what he promises me every night as I drift off to sleep in his arms.
“To the ends of the earth,” I echo, slumping against him in happy surrender.
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Kostya A Dark Bratva Hate Story Page 20