Carlotta Angela Vasiliev is a 17 year old girl living with her adoptive Russian mafia family of 4 brothers and father. Ever since she was a child, she's had no sense of belonging, abused by the Swedish mafia in her youth, her Russian saviours are th...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
As much as I loved seeing Elias miserably fail at getting what he wanted, I was tired and wanted to go home.
They kept me detained in the van, chained to the bench in the back. It wasn't the worst situation to be in, fuck knows I've been in worse, but now that I had someone to get home to, it suddenly became a lot more excruciating.
That being said, it didn't mean I didn't have fun.
The guards already hate me, and I've enjoyed analysing their every tic, their every fucking trigger.
The chains are strong, but breakable if I really tried. The trick is just getting someone close enough...
The doors to the van burst open, and light streamed into the otherwise pitch black environment. I shielded my eyes, the chains attached to my wrist rattling as I moved my arms.
From the harsh light, I realised it was morning. The last time I saw Elias was when he threatened to go to Car last night.
A sudden flurry of rage overtook me, but I hid it well, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of me getting mad. I'll only do that when it puts him at a disadvantage.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the light and I saw Elias standing in front of me flanked by his two groupies.
I took one look at his face, and burst out laughing.
He looked more than displeased at my reaction, his beat up face sneering down at me in displeasure.
He had a large bruise to the side of his head, something blunt yet skinny having made a forceful impact.
His hand was also bloodied and bandaged sloppily.
He looked like a wreck.
And I knew exactly who had done it.
I eventually sobered up enough to speak, "And you thought I was a nightmare, huh?"
Elias's upper lip curled in anger and embarrassment, using his non bandaged hand to signal to his bodyguards.
They seemed to understand the communication and one stepped forward, raising his hand, brass knuckles glinting round his fingers before his metal fist connected harshly to my cheek.
My head whipped harshly to the side, pain coursing through my veins as I grit my teeth in an effort not to yell out.
Blood collects in my mouth, and I spit the thick, red substance by Elias's feet before looking up to him, my dishevelled hair hanging in front of my eyes.
I smirk at him smugly, "She really got you worked up huh? Can't even punch me yourself..." I trailed off eyeing his injured hand, smartly being his dominant one.
I'm going to worship my girl when I get out of here.
Elias just grits his teeth, and his little bitch punches me again, my head whipping the opposite way from before.
