Page 48 of Stolen By the Bratva

“You shouldn’t have run from the Family, you stupid fucker. You shouldn’t have tried to run and start a war like that,” he shouted. He aimed the gun at Alek, smirking as he wiped blood and sweat from his brow. “You stupid, good-for-nothing piece of shit.” His foot connected with Alek’s thigh, and since he was draped over me, I felt the residual hit of Andrey’s boot shoving him back with the brutal kick. I clung to him, hugging him the best I could even though it wouldn’t make a difference in his fate. It wouldn’t make a difference in his pain, either.

I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to stop this madness. I needed to get us out of here alive, but I was stuck, like always.

“War was overdue,” Maxim argued, coughing around his words as he hung over the back of the chair. He was too weak, limited in his ability to stand, but I knew what he was doing.

Stalling. He was delaying the inevitable, pulling this madman’s focus away from his brother. Alek must have realized it too, because he growled and gritted his teeth, straining to get up. Through slitted eyes, he caught my attention and leaned toward me.

Was he trying to get up? Fight back? Or was his pain too hard on that side? I couldn’t understand, but after Andrey punched Maxim back to silence and stomped his way back toward us, I felt it.

Alek wasn’t so cocky and confident to get up like this. He wasn’t fidgeting. He’d only been trying to get his gun. I felt the hard press of it, wedged between our bodies. The barrel of the firearm pulled against my skin, and I slipped my hand to my thigh to try to grip it and pull it out. A weapon would help, but only if I could use it in time.

“Only thing that was overdue is getting rid of you,” Andrey vowed nefariously. He lifted his gun that dripped with blood from Maxim’s face. Drops plopped down through the air as Andrey pointed the end of his barrel directly at Alek’s head, but I was faster.

As his trigger finger twitched, I lifted Alek’s gun and aimed. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t second-guess myself. I fired the gun right at Andrey’s chest in the same moment that I hauled Alek closer to me. My fingers slipped on his bloody shirt, but I gained enough of a grip that I could pull him toward me.

Just in time.

Just out of the way of Andrey’s bullet embedding into the floor where Alek’s head had rested a second before.

Andrey groaned, slapping his hand to his wound that gushed blood. His gun fell from his hand as he pressed the through and through gunshot wound I’d given him. With a furious sneer, he stared at me as he stumbled back a step.

I kept the gun trained on him, letting him see that I had pulled the trigger. That I was the one who’d ended him. My fingers shook with a fine tremor, but I remained rigid and stubborn, not faltering in my focus on him. If he tried anything at all, I’d be ready to fire again.

It was a clean, direct hit right at his heart. His ribcage was shattered, and his vitals were plummeting. He rocked forward and sank to his knees as he lowered his chin. Still staring at me, likely damning me to hell, he slumped to the side like a ship going under.

Gravity finished his drop, and his legs kicked out as his body folded to the floor. He wheezed, breathing faster. Once blood trickled past his lips, I knew it was over.

I’d stunned us both. He probably hadn’t counted on me to stand up for myself—to stand up for Alek and go to such a length to protect him.

But I had.

I killed him.

I killed a man. Not just anyone, but the heir to the Valkov Bratva.

My nerves were already frayed. Inside my mind, thoughts and rational connections struggled to connect and fire. In a shell-shocked state of stupor, I breathed hard and willed my heart to keep up with this suspense and danger.

The sheer incredulity, too.

I killed him.

I’d never used violence like this, not directed at anyone, but more than that, I’d never, ever been in the position to take someone’s life.

Alek moaned, rolling his head to see his cousin dead on the floor. I snapped out of the haze of pure shock and ran my hands over him. My fingers were coated with blood from the wound on his shoulder, but as I hurried to check him over, I realized the bullet hadn’t entered straight through him. He must have twisted as he’d tackled me, leaving his shoulder and back to take the brunt of that bullet grazing him deeply.

“Are you…?” I couldn’t speak. My vocal cords were stiff, frozen from the shock, but I didn’t need to talk. Alek understood my tentative and probing search over him. He nodded weakly, grimacing as I tried to lay him on the floor.

Once I had him off my lap, I could kneel and peer at him closer. He was in pain, no doubt, but he was alive and breathing. No vital organs had been impacted or severed.

“I…” I swallowed hard, my mouth so dry that I could have sworn I’d spent a week screaming to make it this hoarse. Only the adrenaline did this. It was just the shock of the events that had me jittery and mute.

Once more, I looked at Andrey’s lifeless eyes staring back at us, and I tuned out the grisly sensation of the dead’s attention.

Alek breathed steadier, keeping his hand over his wound. “I’m…” He nodded again, giving up on voicing the fact that he would make it.

Knowing he was stable, I crawled to my hands and knees and checked on the others. That man by the door was a lost cause, but Maxim and the priest, they were hanging in there.

I staggered to Maxim, pulling a strip of lacy ornamentation from the remains of my wedding gown’s skirt. It wasn’t much for a gauze or bandage, but I used it to compress the bloodiest spot on his side.

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