Page 26 of Twisted Vows

I shook my head. “We aren't officially together.”

Her look was full of sympathy. “You've spent a lot of time at that cafe, and if anyone's following you—and it's a certainty they must be keeping you under surveillance—they'll quickly realize you aren't going there just for the coffee. You haven't been subtle about your interest, and neither has Malachi.”

Rage simmered beneath my skin, a primal instinct to protect what was mine rising to the surface. I wouldn't allow them to lay a finger on Nika; not while I was still breathing.

“Where are they staging?” I demanded, trying to keep all hint of panic from my tone.

She typed again, and a map flickered to life on one of the screens, displaying a series of red dots scattered across the city. “These are the locations I’ve been able to pinpoint based on their communications,” she said, her tone clipped and professional. “My best guess is they’re planning to hit Jitter Beans during the morning rush.”

I didn't need to think about it, acting purely on the instinctive need to protect Nika. “Mobilize our forces,” I ordered with authority. “We’ll hit them hard and fast to catch them off guard before they have a chance to strike.”

Valentina nodded. “Consider it done.”

As she set to work issuing orders and coordinating our response, I turned on my heel and strode from the room, already focused on the task ahead. The Armenians had made a grave mistake in threatening what was ours, and they would soon learn the price of such folly.

Malachi was waiting for me in the hallway, leaning against the wall with deceptive casualty. His eyes met mine, and fire burned within them, a reflection of the fury that coursed through my own veins.

“You heard?” I asked, though the question was unnecessary.

Malachi nodded, his jaw set in a grim line. “Every word.” His voice was a low rumble, laced with the promise of violence to come.

We fell into step beside each other. No words were needed between us, not after all we had endured together. We were brothers in arms, bound by a code that ran deeper than blood.

As we made our way through the labyrinth of corridors that comprised our stronghold, there was activity everywhere. Men moved with purpose, their faces set in grim masks of determination as they prepared for battle.

Malachi and I were the calm at the center of the storm, unable to indulge in the luxury of letting our focus stray as we issued orders and coordinated our forces. We were a well-oiled machine, each component working in perfect harmony toward a common goal.

The plan was simple, yet elegant in its execution. We would strike first, overwhelming the Armenians with a show of force that would leave them reeling. Our men would secure the perimeter around Jitter Beans, creating an impenetrable barrier that would prevent any innocents from being caught in the crossfire.

Malachi and I would lead the assault team, our combined strength and skill a formidable force. We would cut through their ranks with cold precision, leaving a trail of broken bodies in our wake.

Knowing Nika was at the center of it all would only make us fight harder. We would protect her with our very lives, shielding her from the violence that was about to unfold.

As we made our final preparations, I traded glances with Malachi. This wasn't just a battle for territory or power. This was personal. The Armenians had threatened what was ours, and they'd regret it.

The streets were still and quiet, a deceptive calm before the storm that was about to be unleashed, as we drove toward the cafe. Soon, Jitter Beans stood before us, and. we assumed our positions, our men melting into the shadows like ghosts, their presence all but imperceptible to the untrained eye.

Malachi and I stood side by side, our gazes fixed on the entrance, our senses heightened to the point of hyper-awareness. We were ready to unleash a maelstrom of fury upon those who dared to threaten what was ours.

The minutes ticked by, each second stretching into an eternity as we waited for the first sign of the Armenians’ approach. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension so intense it threatened to suffocate us.

Finally, the first hint of movement reached us. I detected a flicker of movement in the shadows, along with the soft crunch of footsteps on pavement.

They were here.

The air crackled with tension as Malachi and I exchanged a glance, trading a nod. He moved with a predator’s grace, ready to strike. He signaled to our men, who emerged from the shadows, weapons at the ready.

The first shots rang out, a deafening stridency that shattered the stillness of the morning. I dove behind the cover of a nearby car, heart pounding as I returned fire.

There were many more Armenian foot soldiers than I had expected, making me wonder if once again, our mole had tipped them off. The Armenians were relentless, their bullets raining down like a hailstorm, but we were the bratva and weren't so easily defeated.

Malachi and I fought side by side, leaving a trail of broken bodies in our wake. We were a force to be reckoned with, united with our brothers in the determination to end this threat here and now. The others fought hard out of loyalty to the Yelchin bratva, but Malachi and I were fighting for more. We were there to protect Nika, which gave us extra ferocity.

As the firefight raged on, I caught sight of Nika cowering behind the counter. Her eyes were wide with terror, her face pale and drawn. A surge of protective fury swept over me, a primal instinct to shield her. I signaled to Malachi, and together we fought our way toward her, our weapons blazing a path through the chaos. The world narrowed to a single point of focus—Nika, and the need to keep her safe.

As we reached the counter, I winced at a searing pain in my bicep from a bullet tearing through flesh and muscle. I gritted my teeth, refusing to let the pain slow me down.

Malachi looked at me, concern etched across his features, but there was no time for words or anything but the brutal combat that surrounded us.

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