Captured By A Sinner (The Sinners Series)

There’s a violent storm of emotions ravaging every inch of me. I feel out of control, scared out of my mind, and utterly vulnerable.

Nothing in my world makes sense anymore.

I’ve lost everything, and I won’t even get to have funerals for my grandfather and uncle.

The Priesthood are monsters, and I’m held captive by the worst of them all.

Sorrow overwhelms me, and I roll onto my side into a fetal position. Burying my face in the plush covers, I cry for everything that’s been ripped away from me.

Uncle Ricco will never tell me a joke again. I won’t hear his laughter booming through the house.

I won’t smell the cigars my grandfather loved so much.

I cling to the last memory of the three of us having breakfast. I had fruit loops, and Uncle Ricco kept stealing them from my bowl until I made him his own.

My shoulders shudder, and my tears dampen the covers.

It hurts so much more than when I lost my dad. Because I still had Grandpa and Uncle Ricco to console me.

I wasn’t alone, unlike now.

I also can’t get the image out of my mind of Uncle Ricco’s throat being cut. I keep hearing him gargle and struggle to breathe. I keep seeing him die.

I pinch my eyes shut as tight as possible, my arms wrapping tighter across my chest. I pull my knees up and curl into a small bundle.

How much did my grandfather suffer before they killed him?

The thought of being alone in this hell is unbearable and scarier than anything I’ve ever experienced. It makes it hard to think straight, and my emotions keep spiraling out of control.

My entire family is dead, and I’m held captive by Viktor Vetrov.

God.

The couple of times I tried to fight back didn’t help one bit. Viktor is a million times stronger than me. The man is highly trained and easily tosses me around like I’m some ragdoll.

What’s going to become of me?

Viktor said I’d be safe here, but how do I trust the words of the man who helped kill my family?

My only hope is that his family will intervene, especially Isabella Koslov. She’s against anything sex trafficking-related. Surely she’ll help me?

The thought that they burned down my home and the only two people who loved me shudders through my body. Nikolas Stathoulis took all the money.

I have nothing.

Even if I manage to escape, how will I get to New York, and will the Cosa Nostra even take me in? I’m not a part of the five families. I’m nothing to them.

Viktor was right. I have nowhere to go.

Feeling destitute and forlorn, I have no idea what I’m going to do. I don’t know what my future holds.

God, I don’t even know if I’ll live to see tomorrow.

Slowly my tears dry up until emptiness is all that remains.

Realizing that the monster who captured me is the only person I have right now in this godforsaken world is an extremely bitter pill to swallow.

Maybe if I do as he says, he’ll leave me be. It will give me the time I need to process the trauma and figure out what to do.

My body is weak from the dark emotions ravaging me, but still, I push myself up and climb off the bed. I go to the bathroom and splash water over my face. When I look into the mirror, I see red marks on my neck from where Viktor’s fingers were.

Lifting my shirt, there are more red abrasions from where the windowsill scraped against my stomach when he yanked me back into the room.

At least I’m not bleeding.

It could’ve been worse.

My shoulders slump, and it doesn’t sit well with me that I’m trying to make the nightmare not as horrible.

Before my emotions can spiral out of control again, I walk back into the bedroom and put all the furniture in its respective places.

I suck in a fortifying breath of air, then leave the bedroom and slowly inch my way down the hallway. The fear that’s become my constant companion since I laid eyes on Viktor doubles with every step I take.

When I take the stairs down, I peek in the direction of the living room and see Viktor sitting on a couch, nursing a drink. He seems deep in thought as he stares at the liquid in the tumbler.

Dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, he still looks every bit the daunting enemy he is. But even in my distraught state, I still have to admit the man is deadly attractive.

If I weren’t caught in this nightmare, I’d easily fall for his good looks.

But I know better.

I know what power lies beneath his skin and the brutality he’s capable of.

I pause at the foot of the stairs, and my eyes drift over his exposed forearms, the veins snaking beneath his skin only making him seem invincible.

I’ll never be able to fight him off.

Glancing over the living area, I take in all the luxury. All around the mansion, the furnishings are the same dark wood as in my bedroom. There’s a soft, white leather couch and a massive entertainment system with a TV that fills most of the one wall. The kitchen is state-of-the-art with granite tops, and there’s an open-plan dining room.

Even though I’m a prisoner, the mansion feels warm-ish. If it weren’t for Viktor’s threatening presence, I’d actually feel comfortable staying here.

The man might be a monster, but he has taste.

I notice a plate of food on the island. There’s a bottle of water as well.

I have zero appetite, but I’m thirsty.

Viktor doesn’t move as I walk to the island, but he murmurs, “Feeling better?”

I open the bottle and drink half of the cool liquid before muttering, “No.” Turning to look at him, I say, “You hurt me.”

His head snaps up, his eyes sweeping over my body before locking onto the red marks on my neck.

I brush my hair aside so he can see all of it and lift my shirt so he’ll also see the abrasions on my stomach.

I’m not going to pretend the marks aren’t there.

He leans forward and sets the tumbler down on the coffee table before getting up. I quickly lower the shirt when he walks toward me.

The man is so intense it feels as if the very air surrounding him tenses and shifts with every step he takes.

He makes me feel smaller than a bug that he could easily squash if he wanted to.

I’m entirely at this monster’s mercy.

With hard tremors raking through my body, it takes more strength than I have to stand still and not cower back when he stops inches from me. His eyes burn on the marks covering my skin, and try as I might, I can’t stop myself from flinching when he lifts his hand and brushes his knuckles over the side of my neck.

“I’m sorry, Little Rose,” he whispers.

Hearing the regret in his voice has my eyes going wide as saucers. An apology was the last thing I expected.

His dark gaze locks on mine. “You’re more fragile than I thought.”

I wish I was stronger.

Viktor lowers his hand, then stares at me until I feel the overwhelming need to squirm.

“Stop testing my patience, and I’ll be more careful with you.”

Is he actually making a deal with me, or is it an order?

He gestures to the plate. “Eat.”

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“I didn’t ask if you’re hungry. I said eat,” he mutters, the expression on his face darkening even more.

I press back against the counter, my hands finding the granite and clinging to it.

Viktor tilts his head, and everywhere his eyes touch on my face, it feels as if my skin goes up in flames.

“Please, let me go,” I whisper.

I have no idea what I’ll do, but anything has to be better than being this man’s captive.

Slowly, he shakes his head. “The world will trample something as fragile as you. You might not believe it, but this house, staying here with me, is the safest place for you.”

Anger and frustration start to bubble in my chest. Clenching my jaw, I lift my eyes to his. “You belong to the Priesthood who killed my family. You destroyed everything I held dear. This is the last place on Earth I’ll ever be safe.”

The corner of his mouth lifts into a dangerous smirk, causing all my muscles to tighten.

“It doesn’t matter what you think, Little Rose. Until you’re twenty-one and have had time to…” He lifts a hand, brushing a finger over my jawline, “blossom, I’ll make every decision for you.”

My lips part to argue, but they’re sealed shut when he adds, “Take the time to grow stronger and mourn your family.”

My family.

I shake my head, then turn my face away from him and stare at the fridge.

I don’t want any of this. It’s madness.

How will I survive three years with this man?

Will I even make it to my eighteenth birthday?

And if I do, what kind of future lies ahead of me?

“Eat, Rosalie,” he murmurs with something akin to compassion softening his tone.

My eyes dart back to his face, but he still looks like the lethal head of the bratva who can end my life in a split second.

When I don’t move, Viktor reaches past me and drags the plate closer. He scoops a bite of food onto the fork, then brings it to my mouth.

My skin goes up in flames, and I look at the fridge again.

“I will force feed you if I have to,” he warns me.

Not wanting that to happen, my chin quivers as I take hold of the fork and shove the food into my mouth.

Asshole.

When I swallow the bite and scoop more food onto the fork, Viktor murmurs, “Good girl.”

Instant anger explodes through my veins. Before I can think it through, I grab the plate and shove it against his chest. The plate lands on the floor with a loud clatter.

Breaths heave from me. “I’m not your good girl. Don’t try to condition me!”

Instead of losing his temper, a smile spreads over his face. He looks down at the wasted food clinging to his shirt and lying at our feet, then his eyes flick to mine.

“You have one minute to clean up this mess.”

“You can go to hell,” I hiss.

When I try to dart past him, his fingers clamp around my bicep, and I’m yanked right against his side. His face is a mere inch from mine as he orders, “Clean up this mess, or I’ll spank you.”

What?

For a moment, I’m torn between making a run for it and doing as I’m told. The air grows unbearably tense, then my shoulders slump.

When Viktor lets go of me, I grab a roll of paper towels, and crouching by his feet, I wipe up all the food. I throw it in the trashcan, but then he says, “My shirt isn’t going to clean itself.”

“You’re joking,” I gasp, quickly regretting my outburst of anger that got me in this predicament.

His eyes narrow on my face. “Does it look like I’m joking?”

No. Not at all. It looks like it’s taking all his self-restraint not to carry out his threat of spanking me.

I grab more paper towels, and my cheeks go up in flames as I dab the food from his shirt.

When I toss the paper towels in the trashcan, Viktor takes hold of the back of his shirt and drags the fabric over his head in a move that’s hotter than anything I’ve ever witnessed.

My jaw drops as I get a full view of his chest.

Jesus.

Chiseled abs and a perfect V disappearing into the low-hanging waistband of his sweatpants instantly make me breathless.

There are so many tattoos.

God.

Viktor has a star inked on each shoulder and a weird cross made of skulls with angel wings on the sides in the middle of his chest.

There’s a dark row of hair from his navel to the fabric.

My tongue darts out to wet my dry lips, and I feel a flare of panic in my chest.

Of course, the devil himself will look like a damn angel.

Just because he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him. That would be insane.

Viktor Vetrov is a monster who killed my family and took me from everything I loved.

My eyes snap to his, and seeing that he was watching me stare at him has me fleeing past him and up the stairs to my bedroom. I slam the door shut and press my back to it.

Sucking in deep breaths, I close my eyes and try to erase the image of his bare chest and abs from my mind.

I hate him.

I hate him so much.

No matter what happens, I can never forget the pain he caused me today.