Page 24 of Twisted Vows

I nodded, clenching my jaw. “How did we find this?”

“Valentina,” said Rurik. “She’s gonna lead us on X. She thinks they’re holed up here, surrounded by a small army of Armenian foot soldiers.

As he explained, the rest of our strike team, a tight crew of hardened bratva soldiers, emerged from the shadows around us. I was surprised to discover Dmitri was in charge, but Viktor must have thought his son was ready.

“Remember, gentlemen,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “No mercy. We take no prisoners tonight.”

A chorus of grunts and murmurs temporarily surrounded us before fading into silence to move forward. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as we approached the entrance to the warehouse.

Rurik gave the signal, and we moved as one, a well-oiled machine fueled by years of training and experience. The door burst open with a thunderous crash, and we poured inside, weapons raised and our senses on high alert.

The cavernous interior was shrouded in darkness, the stench of mold tainting the air. My eyes strained to pierce the gloom, searching for any sign of movement or hint of the enemy that lurked within.

A sudden burst of gunfire shattered the silence, the staccato roar of automatic weapons echoing off the walls. I dove for cover, slamming against a stack of crates as bullets whizzed past, splintering the concrete around me. They were definitely here.

“Contact.” Dmitri’s voice rang out, his tone reflecting caution and excitement.

I peered over the edge of my makeshift barricade, eyes narrowing when I saw the Armenian soldiers, their faces twisted into snarls of rage. They were dug in, their positions fortified with sandbags and makeshift barricades.

“Return fire,” I bellowed, my voice cutting through the chaos like a knife.

The air erupted with the deafening roar of gunfire, the acrid stench of cordite filling my nostrils. I squeezed off a series of controlled bursts, my aim steady and true as I picked off targets one by one.

Beside me, Rurik moved with the fluid grace of a dancer, his lithe form weaving through the hail of bullets as he advanced on the enemy positions. His weapon barked in rapid succession, each shot finding its mark with lethal precision.

The Armenians fought with the desperation of cornered animals, their ranks thinning with each passing moment, but for every soldier that fell, two more seemed to take their place, a never-ending tide of violence and hatred.

A searing pain ripped through my shoulder, and the force of the impact spun me around. I stumbled, my vision blurring as I fought to maintain my grip on the Glock. I managed not to fall, and through the haze of pain, I caught sight of Rurik as he laid down suppressing fire.

“Malachi?” His voice cut through the chaos, laced with urgency. “Fall back. We need to regroup.”

I gritted my teeth, fingers slick with blood as I clutched my wounded shoulder. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to push forward, to unleash the full fury of the bratva upon our enemies, but Rurik was right. We were outgunned and the tide of battle was turning against us.

With a growl of frustration, I signaled our retreat, falling back toward the entrance as our team covered our withdrawal before falling back with us. As we burst back into the night, I sagged with relief tempered by the bitter taste of defeat. We had underestimated our foes, and now we would have to regroup, to lick our wounds and plan our next move.

Rurik fell into step beside me, his face streaked with sweat and grime. “We’ll get them next time, brat,” he said, his voice laced with grim determination.

I nodded, my jaw clenched with resolve. “Count on it. X won’t escape us forever. We’ll hunt them down.”

“I didn't expect the Armenians to be so vested in protecting a hacker who wasn't even part of them.” My friend looked confused.

“I agree it's ominous. X must be a big part of their operation to have such a big contingent looking out for them.”

He looked even more deeply troubled for a moment. “Or perhaps our mole let them know we were coming, so they were prepared.”

The thought made my stomach churn with nausea as I reluctantly nodded. “Makes sense.” What were the Armenians planning, and could we stop it if we acquired X? How had X and the Armenians convinced one of our own to turn against us? We wouldn't have the answers tonight, which filled me with bitter frustration. Time for me to get to our bratva clinic to get this superficial wound treated.

Chapter Eleven – Rurik

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and the background noise of quiet conversation greeted me as I stepped into Jitter Beans. Nika was behind the counter, moving with practiced efficiency, a radiant smile brightening her features.

A pang of guilt tugged at me. After the disastrous raid on the Armenian warehouse, Malachi had sustained an injury that required a short recovery time. While he healed, we frequented this cozy cafe, indulging in the simple pleasures it offered and the company of its captivating barista. The hint of guilt came from enjoying this unexpected respite and chance to gently court Nika.

When her gaze met mine, a hint of a blush crept onto her cheeks. “The usual?” Her voice held a musical lilt that never failed to stir something within me.

I nodded, my lips curving into a smile I reserved solely for her. Turning to prepare our drinks, she moved with a grace that belied the urgency of the cafe’s morning rush.

Malachi’s arrival drew my attention, his imposing frame filling the doorway. Despite the lingering stiffness in his shoulder from the healing wound, he carried himself with the same unshakable confidence as always.

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