Wicked Savage: Chapter 3

“Take Gregory and go upstairs,” I urge my little sister, Tatiana, my body tight with panic.

Tears streak down her face, and I can barely stand to see her so scared—so small, so fragile. She’s only eleven. She should be playing with friends, not cowering from our father’s rage.

From the other room, my father’s voice erupts, sharp and violent. “You open your mouth to me, suka?”

His words are like a whip, followed by the sickening sound of a thud. My mother’s muffled whimper breaks through the air, and my body stiffens with fear.

Tatiana clutches three-year-old Gregory to her chest, his face pale and streaked with tears.

“We need to get help,” she whispers, barely audible. “He’s hurting her so bad… It’s worse than ever.”

Her small hand shakes as it wraps around our brother, and I can’t bear the anguish in his eyes. His fear is a mirror of my own.

“I’m going to try to help, okay?” I say, trying to keep my tone steady, though my heart is racing, each beat louder than the last. “Just take him upstairs and keep him safe.”

She nods, barely holding it together. “Be careful.”

I pull them both into a quick, desperate hug—one that feels like I’m giving them everything I have, even as I push them toward the stairs, my fingers trembling.

“Hvatit!” My mother’s cry echoes through the house, raw and pleading. “Leo, pajalista!” Stop. Leo, please.

I don’t wait another second. My feet move on their own as I rush toward the den, my hand gripping the cold doorknob like a lifeline. I close my eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply and trying to silence the terror crashing through me.

Be brave. Be strong. You can do this, Dinara.

When I push the door open, my father’s anger cuts through the silence.

“You will learn your place in my house!” he bellows just as I step into the room, and he turns to me, his eyes dark with malice.

“Leave her alone, Papa!” My heart pounds in my chest, my blood roaring in my ears.

I want to move, to do something—anything—to stop him, but I can’t. Fear has me rooted to the spot, though my body quivers with fury.

My mother tries to push herself off the ground, blood streaking down her face as she swipes at her mouth. But before she can get far, he shoves her back down with his bare foot, crushing her into the floor as if she’s nothing more than an insect beneath his heel.

“Just like your mother.” His lip curls with disgust. “Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

I step forward, adrenaline pumping through my veins. But then, with a cruel chuckle, he reaches for a small lion statue on the side table, lifting it in the air like it’s a weapon.

His eyes lock on me, and I know what’s coming. My body goes cold, but I stand my ground, refusing to back down.

“Let Mama go and stop it,” I whisper. “Gregory is afraid.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve had to face him. It won’t be the last. And I will never stop fighting. Ever.

“I teach Gregory how to be a man. Do not worry about my son.” His words are slow, deliberate. Designed to make me flinch.

And it works. My stomach twists into a tight knot as he steps closer, intentionally cutting down the space between us to make me feel small.

“Dinara, just go. I’m fine.” Mom’s voice trembles, but I can hear the effort in it, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.

But I can’t leave her. Not now, not ever. The thought of turning away from her, leaving her alone to face him…it feels like a betrayal. I’d never do that. I’d never abandon my mother.

He moves again, closing the distance, and I step back, my pulse hammering in my ears and my breath shallow.

His footsteps are heavy, purposeful, and I feel them in my chest. “I will teach you lesson, Dinara. One you remember.”

“Let her go!” Mom shouts out of nowhere, rushing out from behind him, a vase in her hands and a quiet, desperate defiance in her eyes.

The world tilts, everything slows down, and I scream.

“Mom! No!” But the words are barely out before it happens.

He’s already grabbed the vase from her hands, tearing it away in one swift motion.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I lunge at him, grabbing on to his back with all my strength, pushing with everything inside me as I try to get him away from her.

“Mom!” I shout.

The rest happens in a blur.

One second, she’s screaming. The next, she’s silent as he continues to bash her face in, over and over, while I punch his back, trying to stop him.

But it’s too late,

“Mom!” I sob for her, but she can’t hear me.

Not anymore

Blood is everywhere.

Her blood.

“Mom!” My small fists rain across his back.

But he doesn’t even feel them. He just curses at her in Russian as he continues to bludgeon her until I can’t even recognize her face.

If only I had seen her stand up. If only I had somehow warned her not to do what she did. Maybe she’d still be here.

Almost every night, I relive that day, as though I’m being punished for not doing enough. For failing her. I wake up gasping for air with tears choking me, or screaming so loud it echoes in the silence of my room. It’s like I’m back there again, watching it all unfold right before my eyes.

God, it hurts. The pain of remembering her—of knowing I couldn’t save her—is a suffocating knot in my chest that refuses to loosen. I can’t get past the fact that she’s gone. Gone forever. I’ll never hear her laughter again. Never feel her warm, comforting arms around me.

She’s dead. No matter how hard my mind tries to shut it out, the truth is undeniable: she’s not coming back.

“Dinara?” Natalia’s voice breaks through the haze of my thoughts, and it takes me a few seconds to pull myself out of the memory, to force my mind back to the present.

“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”

“Are you okay?” Her hand rests gently on my shoulder before she hugs me tightly.

“I will be.”

“That again?” she whispers.

I nod, unable to find the words to explain how much pain I still carry from her loss.

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry.”

Alisa’s hand runs comfortingly down my back.

They both know what happened. Everyone in our inner circle does. But to the outside world, my mom had a nervous breakdown and killed herself.

I had to play along. There was no choice. But everything in me wants to scream the truth, to let the world know what that monster did to her.

“I’m fine now, guys.” I force the biggest grin I can muster, even though pretending the way I am is choking me. “Let’s go check out the rest of the place.”

The last thing I want to do today is remember how badly I failed her. I do that enough already.

They loop their arms through mine, guiding me down another hallway until we stop in front of the last door on the right. A woman stands in front of a group of maybe twenty people, her confident stance commanding the room.

“What do you think’s going to happen in here?” Alisa whispers behind me, the sound of her curiosity mixing with the beat of the music.

“I don’t know,” I answer just as the woman’s voice cuts through the air.

“Welcome to the art of touch, where you will be paired at random and learn to explore each other’s bodies.”

Whoa.

A wave of nervous energy washes over me as I step forward, crossing the threshold into the room.

“You’ll each be given items to use in whatever way you wish,” she adds as she gestures toward a table filled with black string bags.

“This sounds intense,” Natalia murmurs in my ear.

“Excuse me?” the woman calls out, her face hidden behind an intricate red-and-gold lace mask. “Will you be joining us before we close the doors?”

I freeze, unsure of what I’m stepping into.

“Do it!” Alisa urges. “We’ll wait by the bar.”

She pushes me forward, and as she does, my gaze lands on the man walking right toward me.

Not just any man.

Cillian.

He’s here.

My stomach tightens, air catching in my throat. He locks eyes with me, that signature smirk tugging at his lips, and my heart skips a beat.

His approach is slow, deliberate, and with every step, every inch of me becomes more aware. It’s like he’s got a hold on me, pulling me toward him with every movement.

“She’ll stay.” His tone is deep and commanding, leaving no space for argument.

And in this moment, there’s no place I’d rather be.

I can barely focus on anything else, the weight of his presence consuming me as he stops right in front of me. My body goes weak, like it recognizes him before I do.

“Glad you decided to join us. Please shut the door,” the woman tells me, but I can’t tear my gaze away from Cillian.

He shuts it for me before taking my hand, dragging me toward the corner of the room, guiding me behind a crowd of people. His arm slides around my hips, pressing me into his side.

Every inch of my skin feels alive with his touch, and I try to focus on anything else, but it’s impossible. The way he looks at me, the heat of his body against mine…it’s too much. Too intoxicating.

And I know deep down, I’m already lost.

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” His words are a heated rasp against my ear, sending electric shocks down my spine that leave my skin tingling.

“Were you now?” I fight the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. “Or maybe you were just stalking me.”

A low, gravelly laugh rumbles from his chest, sending a shiver through me. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not in the habit of stalking women.”

His breath dances over my nape, warm and irresistible.

“I’m sure there’s a first time for everything.” My smile curls just a little as I watch the darkening of his eyes. A deeper shade of green, like the depths of the ocean.

His arm tightens around my back, like he’s making sure I can’t escape even if I wanted to.

But I don’t.

“You’re right.” His fingers slide through my hair, pushing a few strands behind my ear.

Shivers rush through me the moment his fingertips graze my skin. The electric connection between us sparks in every direction, making me feel alive in ways I never thought possible.

His lips are mere inches from me, the heat of his breath mingling with my own. His gaze locks on to mine, steady and intense, and I can barely breathe—can hardly think—as every part of me ignites under his stare.

“Am I?” My words are barely a whisper, the tension pulling tight between us.

“Mm-hmm.” His thumb traces the line of my jaw, a low groan slipping from his lips.

The sensation of his touch on me is almost too much, too perfect. I’m swept up in a whirlwind of desire, unable to look away. Unable to think of anything but him.

He pushes me up against the wall, ignoring everyone else, crowding into my space until his entire body is flush with mine. And there’s no mistaking the thick, unforgiving length digging into me. Alisa was definitely right about the whole thick-fingers-and-large-dicks thing, because his is definitely not just a few inches.

“I shouldn’t be thinking the things I am right now.” His breaths land hot on my lips.

But he doesn’t kiss me, teasing me with his proximity until all I want is more. Until I’m craving it on a level I’ve never felt before.

How is that possible? How can I want such things with a man I don’t even know?

But I want to know him. Want him to snap off that mask so I can see him, even if that’s against the rules.

“What things are you thinking about?”

I want him to admit he feels what I do. That he wants to kiss me and touch me, have every inch of me.

He cages me with his large hands, his mouth stroking the corner of mine, and in a flash, he’s got his hand wrapped around my throat. His eyes turn beastly and demonic, so raw I can practically feel him inside me, taking what I’d be willing to give.

“Like wanting to rip this pretty dress to shreds…” He traces the hem across my breasts. “…and have you begging me to fuck you while my tongue is inside your pretty cunt.”

Holy. Shit.

A pulsing throb hits between my thighs. I would let him in an instant.

The thought is irrational and stupid, but maybe Natalia is right. Maybe losing my virginity to this man is the smartest idea I’ve ever had.

Okay, I’m probably pushing it. But like she said, this is the time I get to make all the mistakes in the world. Let’s just hope he isn’t one of them.

“You two back there seem to have gotten an early start.” The woman laughs. “You’ll be paired up.”

Shit.

My stomach takes a nosedive. I completely forgot where I was for a moment.

Okay, maybe this was a terrible idea. Art of touch, did she say? What the hell does that even mean?

Will I have to remove my clothes? What exactly will we be doing? Oh my God, what if I’m supposed to get naked for him?

Hello! It’s not like he’s just gonna be touching your arms. Do you realize where you are, Dinara?

I should just walk away. That would be smart.

“Don’t be nervous, love.” His masculine and alluring voice zaps my attention back to him. “I wouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

The sincerity in his words makes me relax just a little.

“Is that so?” I tease, hoping to sound calm and collected instead of frazzled and nervous like a stupid virgin.

You are a stupid virgin.

Okay, maybe not stupid, but definitely a virgin.

Hopefully not for long.

“That’s right.” He caresses my jaw with his hard knuckles, and I just want to crawl into his big, strong arms and live there. “If all you want to do is talk, we can do that too. I’m not in a rush.”

In a rush for what? I want to ask.

But instead, I let out a nervous laugh. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

His thumb swipes across my bottom lip, his gaze following his movement. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

My pulse quickens, racing against the heat building between us. Every fiber of my being begs to rip off his mask, to see the man hiding behind that confident exterior, the one who speaks with such ease and charm. I want to know him—really know him.

“You may now go to the first empty room you find,” the woman announces, and my stomach flips with anticipation.

His gaze lingers on me, the weight of his presence heavy and undeniable.

“You ready?” His voice slips under my skin.

I try to swallow the knot in my throat, but it sticks, thick and heavy.

Without missing a beat, I nod, forcing a smile. I tell myself it’s fine, that I’m not scared. But the truth is, I’m not just nervous.

I’m petrified.