My Russian Nightmare Read Free Page A

knows what. I won’t go. At least, I won’t go willingly.
    The blond guy steps further into the room. He approaches my brother’s bedside and looks down at Sammy with a sick smile on his lips as he cracks his knuckles. “Now that we have her, can I finish?” he asks the old man.
    Never taking his eyes off me, the obvious leader of the group answers. “We’ll see about that, won’t we, princess.” It makes me sick that he’s using the nickname only Sammy calls me. His eyes shoot up to the dark-haired man closest to me for a moment.
    Mr. Tall, Dark, and Terrifying nods, his stare cold, hard, and stoic before turning his gaze on me. For a nanosecond, something almost sad flashes in his eyes. It’s gone so fast, I’m not sure I didn’t imagine it. All I can be sure I see is the emptiness in his eyes. It’s like he’s dead, like he holds no emotion whatsoever.
    With the speed of a tiger taking down a gazelle, before I can react at all, he lunges toward me. One steel-like arm pins me against his chest, the other presses hard over my nose and mouth. The pressure against my nose is causing sharp pain that makes my eyes tear up against my will. Against my will seems to be the theme of the day.
    “Stop fighting. Or else my friends here will do to you worse than they did to your brother.”
    “Don’t scare the poor girl, Dima,” the old man coos. “There’s no need for threats of violence against her. I have a better idea. How about we cut Sammy’s oxygen off five seconds for every second she struggles against us. I think that will work. How about you, golubushka?”
    “No!” I squeal.
    I can’t let them hurt Sammy. Not when he’s barely hanging on to life as it is. He needs a chance to recover. I struggle to shake my head. Misunderstanding what I’m disagreeing to, or maybe just trying to show me he’s the one holding all the cards, the old man nods at the blond, who pulls the oxygen cord off the wall-mounted device.
    No alarm rings to alert the nurses. There is nothing to suggest these men are thugs, and they are here to finish my brother off. That’s why they choose the oxygen, because it won’t garner attention until it’s too late. I stare at one of the machines monitoring Sammy. I hold my breath as his oxygen level slowly drops, one number at a time. I can’t let them do this.
    “Stop, please!” I plead.
    The old man just stares at me for a few life-altering seconds.
    They win.
    “I’ll do whatever you want. Just please leave him alone!”   
    It’s my turn to sacrifice, to give back to my brother all that he gave to me. My turn to protect him and give him a chance to recover. If the only way I can do that is to give in and let these awful men have their way with me, then it is what I must do. I go slack in the dark-haired man’s arms, not misunderstanding for one moment that by giving up and giving in, I’m saying goodbye to life as I know it, and my brother. Possibly forever.

 
     
     
      Chapter 2
    The dark-haired one, Dima, wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me tight against him as we head to the stairwell. He’s so strong, the death grip he has me in feels like steel beams are wrapped around me. I fight the urge to push him away and elbow him in the ribs.
    I know if I fight, if I run, they’ll finish Sammy off. Unless I make a scene, draw enough attention to myself that security has no choice but to intervene. It’s not practical though. There are three of them. If I do find a security guard, he might be able to detain one of them before back up arrives, two at best. One will still be able to give him the slip.
    I know by allowing them to lead me away somewhere, the chances of me surviving decrease by percentage points in the double digits. But what choice do I have? I can’t handle being the cause of my brother’s death.
    “Don’t make a scene,” Dima warns, whispering in my ear. “They aren’t playing games. They will kill him, then they’ll rape and torture