CHAPTER FOUR: Plead Your Case.

ANYA'S POV

I listen quietly, trying to understand what had woken me up. I had been deep in the throes of a nightmare when suddenly a loud sound effectively woke me up from sleep.

I get down from my bed and move quietly towards the door, placing my ear gently on the door, only proceeding when I hear nothing.

I pull open the door and take the back stairs leading to the lounge area. When I get there, the sight in front of me has me clutching my mouth in fear.

My father was lying on his face, very much dead, with a bullet hole in his head. The dark, thick blood spreading around him was like a memorabilia to his fate.

I notice other things about his body. He was missing some fingers, and his knees seemed to be bent at an odd angle.

Tears roll down my eyes at the sight. I wasn't crying for my father. No, he didn't deserve that. I was crying for the freedom that I could taste on my lips and feel with the tips of my fingers.

Who killed him, though? Was it the masked man?

I take a look at the men dressed in black and black, I count six of them plus the one who seems to be the boss. He wasn't dressed too different from them, but I subconsciously knew he was their khozyain from his posture and the regal energy emanating from him.

I spend some time crouched there, trying to determine if I was in danger or not. When it looked like they were about to leave and had no idea of my existence, I turn on my heel with the intentions of returning of bed.

I make a miscalculation and step on a floorboard, which was almost completely pulled from its frame, and it makes a loud noise, which exposes my presence.

I hold my breath and turn back around, praying to God that no one heard the noise.

Their boss turns around slowly until his eyes are locked on mine.

The enthralling vibrant blue of his irises has me so enraptured that I can barely move an inch from there. The static electricity in the air could be felt miles away.

“YA dumal, ty skazal, chto on vydal svoyu doch'.” I thought you said he gave away his daughter. The man growls at the person beside him.

I gasp when I take a good look at the man and the Eagle tattoo peeking out the top of his shirt.

This tattoo was the mark of the bratva. The bratva was in my house. Under my roof. And they had killed my father. I had seen their faces.

It was an unspoken rule to never leave witnesses, which means I'm in as much danger as my father had been.

I spin on my heels and take off the flight of stairs, cursing under my breath when I hear heavy footfalls behind me. They were giving chase, and they were getting closer by the minute.

I dash into my room and open the closet door, my eyes looking for the little opening in the wood which served as a hiding spot for me numerous times in the past. It turns out that when you live with a drunk deadbeat father, to survive you had to be very good at hiding.

I fix my last finger in the hole and I push the wood aside, stepping inside the small space, and covering the wood back, successfully shielding myself from prying eyes and dangerous men.

I try to regulate my breathing in order not to give away my hiding spot.

My heartbeat increases as heavy footsteps sound just inside my room. I hold my breathe, waiting for the footsteps to go away but rather than move, the person remains standing.

Just when I'm about to sigh in relief, the closet door is harshly pulled open and the wooden slab protecting me is torn open.

For a moment I'm speechless and I can't move.

The dark haired man reaches inside and drags me out behind him.

I thrash wildly, scratching him on any exposed skin but still not doing enough damage. “Leave me the fuck alone!” I scream at him.

“Cut it out, bitch!” The man says backhanding me across the face.

Bright hot pain explodes on my right cheek and I find I can barely blink right due to tge shock.

Anger like I've never known before courses through my body. Anger at being manhandled. Anger at being hit. Anger at the possibility of suffering a much worse fate death.

I lift my leg up and with all my strength, I bring it down on his own leg and then elbow him on the abdomen, although I think I hurt myself more with that move.

The man shows no evidence of being hurt other than a mere rumbling groan which goes through me like an earthquake.

Frustration increases my movements and when I finally break free from him, I knee him so hard in the shaft he screams a curse. “Take that, mother fucker.” I say spitting on him.

I watch him crumble to the floor in pain. I smile above him, wondering if I should do more harm, but my plans are however soiled when he speaks on a walkie-talkie attached to his black leather jacket. I take that as my indication to leave immediately.

I grab my phone and my purse before high tailing it out of my room.

“Fuck!” I curse when I try to take the main stairs, but see some men waiting for me down there.

I snap my fingers together when I remember a special entrance and exit located in my father's room. It opens to what is supposed to be the stables just behind the house.

I start running towards my father's room, turning the last hallway that will get me there, only to be stopped by a hand which grabs me by the waist and throws me against the wall.

My eyes go black for a minute from pain. I feel myself being moved but I can't do anything to stop it. Whoever lifted me, places me on his shoulder and I bounce up and down as we go down the stairs.

My subconscious is telling me to fight harder and to do something about this situation but I can't even find the strength to move an arm talk more of fighting this obviously huge person off.

I finally regain my bearings a few minutes or hours later, I can't quite tell.

“vstat' , malen'kiy tsvetok.” Stand up, little flower. A soft but manly voice calls from above me.

I look up and up and up again before I get to the face of the man who just spoke to me.

I was by no means short at 5’8 but this man definitely had inches on me.

I sit up and find myself surrounded by the men who had killed my father.

“Where is my father's body?” I ask, when I notice that the spot he was lying on was cleaned spotless and his body missing. I must have been out of it for longer than I thought.

The tall huge man curses under his breath, running his hands through his hair. “Yemu dadut posledneye uvazheniye , kotoroye on zasluzhivayet , ne bespokoytes' o nem.” He will be given the last respect he deserves, don't worry about him.

I kneel upright, not liking the looming figures of the men above me.

“What do we do with her?” One of the men asks with a scowl on his face.

“YA govoryu , chto my ubivayem yeye , vy znayete , chto my ne ostavlyayem svideteley zhivymi.” I say we kill her, you know we leave no witnesses alive. Another man says with a shrug.

I turn to the man who spoke and growl at him. “Yesli ty podoydesh' ko mne khotya by na dyuym, ya otrezhu tvoy chlen i zasunu yego tebe v zadnitsu.” If you come within an inch of me, I will cut off your dick and shove it up your ass.

They all look at me with shocked expressions on their faces like they did not expect me to understand what they were saying, let alone speak their language.

I grew up with a very traditional father so of course, learning the language, MY language, would be a priority.

“I say we take her home and keep her for our pleasure.” The man I hit in the balls says, leering widely at me. His eyes held promise of retribution if he were ever to get his hands on me.

“I could fuck that ass an tits for days without getting tired.” Another one says gripping his dick in a lewd display of manly foolishness.

Another one grips my hair, causing me to groan in pain and almost smashes my face into his groin region. “This face was made to be fucked by me.”

“ostanovit’!'' stop! The blue eyed monster says from where he was seated.

They immediately back up, leaving me to fall back to floor. I almost sag with relief at his command. This man was my Knight in shining armour. He had saved me from the hands of these perverts.

“Whatever sadistic intentions you might have, save them till we get back to the compound.” The blue eyed man says to them, shattering my heart even more.

I remember my father once saying in his drunken stupor that not minding the fact that he was no longer in the bratva, we were still under their protection. I bet if I could get in contact Dimitri Gusef their current Pakhan, he would offer me the protection this dimwit's didn't know I deserve.

“I want to speak with your Pakhan.” I say in a soft tone, not sure if my command will fall on deaf ears.

“What did you say Malyshka?” The tall man finally speaks again.

“Don't call me……” I breathe in deeply, trying to hold back my anger. “I said I want to speak with your Pakhan, Dimitri Gusef.” I say loudly this time, my tone infused with confidence I did not feel.

The men look between themselves, confusion written all over their faces, and then as if under a spell, they all burst out laughing. Deep belly laughs that has one holding his stomach.

“What is funny?!” I ask angrily.

One of the men walks towards me and grips my hair tightly in his hands, lifting my face up to his, before bending until we are eye level. “tut zhe sidit Dmitriy Gusef, nash yedinstvennyy Pakhan.” Seated right there is Dimitri Gusef, our one and only Pakhan.

That cannot be THE Dimitri Gusef. Dimitri Gusef just as the rumours said was rarely seen. Why would he be here, in my father's house?