Page 81 of Never Distract a Biker

Marina shifts slightly, her gaze flickering to him. “Vovka,” she says softly, almost pleading. For a brief second, he seems to look at her, and then, the mad glint returns to his eyes.

Vovka’s mouth twists into a snarl, his teeth bared. “You fool,” he spits at her. “You are not supposed to be here.”

“Isn’t she?” I interject smoothly, watching him carefully. “Or are you losing track of who’s loyal to you? Don’t you want her to witness the moment you finally destroy my empire?”

His gaze snaps back to me, and for a moment, I see the full force of his rage. He wants to kill me. He wants to kill Scarlett. He wants to rip apart everything I care about, just like he did twenty years ago. But he can’t—not yet.

Not with Marina in my grip. Not with his power slipping through his fingers like sand.

Scarlett

Viktor holds Marina tightly in front of him, her arms pinned to her sides as he uses her as a human shield. His gun is steady, and the barrel is pointed at Vovka.

“Drop your weapon,” Viktor commands, his voice low and deadly calm.

Vovka smirks, unfazed by the scene in front of him. “Drop my weapon? You’re amusing, Makarov,” he says, waving his gun slightly as if to taunt Viktor. “Do you think I’d give up my advantage for her?”

Marina’s breathing is ragged, her face pale and streaked with sweat. “Vovka,” she whispers, her voice shaky, “you wouldn’t ... you wouldn’t do this to me.”

Vovka’s laughter echoes through the room, sharp and chilling. “You think you’re special?” he sneers, his eyes narrowing. “No one stands in the way of my success, Marina. Especially not a dumb fucking girlfriend who can be replaced.”

The words hit Marina like a slap, her eyes widening in disbelief. She turns her head slightly toward him searching for any sign that he doesn’t mean it.

He doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he raises his gun and fires.

The sound of the shot rips through the air, and I jump, my hands flying instinctively to my stomach. Marina’s scream cuts off as she crumples to the ground, clutching her bleeding leg.

I can’t breathe. I can’t move. All I can do is watch as pain and shock register on her face. Her hands tremble as she presses them against the wound, her voice shaky and weak. “What ... what are you doing?”

Vovka steps closer, his expression cold and indifferent. “Getting rid of liabilities,” he says flatly. “You couldn’t even follow a simple instruction. I told you to stay back while I handled things. But no, you had to come here and ruin everything.”

Marina’s lips quiver as tears spill down her cheeks. “I—”

“Do you think you’re irreplaceable?” Vovka cuts her off. He leans down slightly, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “I killed my father for standing in my way. Don’t flatter yourself into thinking you’re more special than him.”

Vovka stands there, his arm steady as he lowers the gun. There isn’t a trace of regret on his face, only a twisted satisfaction.

“You see, Viktor?” he says, his tone light, as if this is all some game. “You don’t control the board. I do.”

I glance at Viktor, my heart racing. His expression doesn’t change—his face is a mask of control, his body still, but I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

Vovka takes another step closer, his eyes gleaming with malice. “You think you’ve won because you’ve survived this long? Let me show you how wrong you are.”

He points the gun at Marina again, his finger resting on the trigger.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. This isn’t just a ruthless man—it’s a deranged monster with enough power and wealth to do whatever he wants. My heart pounds wildly, and fear tightens its grip on me. I clutch my bump protectively, my fingers digging into the fabric of my dress.

Before I can even begin to process what’s happening, Vovka raises his gun again and fires a second shot.

Marina lets out a strangled cry, her body jerking before collapsing into stillness. Blood pools beneath her, soaking into the ground.

I bite back a scream, my chest heaving as panic surges through me. The air feels thick, suffocating, as Vovka casually tosses his gun to the side.

“I am unarmed now, Viktor Makarov,” he announces, a sick glint in his eyes. “I challenge you to a fistfight. No interference. Winner takes both Bratva.”

My knees threaten to give out beneath me. This can’t be happening. My heart thunders as I silently beg Viktor to refuse, to find another way.

But Viktor doesn’t hesitate. His voice is calm and firm as he says, “I accept.”

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