Page 35 of Obsessed Bratva King

I exhale slowly, suppressing the flicker of irritation in my chest. The flash drive had a tracker. It’s the only explanation.

Her plugging it in brought it back to life. Now it’s pinging a location to Darren and his people are here to get it.

The first man steps out of the car. Then another.

Four in total.

Their movements are slow—not in a rush. That means they think they have control.

They don’t.

The leader steps forward, a thick-set man with dark eyes and a smirk that makes me want to rip his throat out. He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the restaurant.

I roll my shoulders, shifting just slightly. Loosening up.

I inhale, slow and even as I climb out my car and make my way toward them. They’re still facing the restaurant, discussing tactics.

The leader barely has time to react before I slam my boot into the back of his knee, sending him sprawling. I land a second shot to his balls before turning to the rest.

I use the nearest man as a shield, twisting his arm behind his back, making him take the blade meant for me. He chokes on a scream as his own man stabs him in the chest.

Two left.

I drop the corpse, kicking out the knees of the one with the knife. His leg breaks, and as he opens his mouth to scream, I punch him hard enough for his teeth to break. He drops, screaming in agony. Another kick and he’s silent.

One left.

He panics and runs.

I let him.

For a second.

Then I raise the knife and hurl it into the back of his neck.

He collapses with a strangled scream, blood pooling beneath him.

Silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

I exhale, slow and steady, forcing the adrenaline down. Ten seconds have passed since I stepped out of my car.

I catch the movement too late. The leader is reaching into his jacket, pulling out a gun. He gets off a shot, the silencer making a soft phut as a bullet grazes my side.

I kick the gun out of his hand, crouching down and grabbing his neck, snapping it an instant later.

I push up from the pavement, my breath controlled, but my side burns. People are running, screaming. I don’t care.

I press a hand to my ribs, feeling the warmth of blood seeping through my shirt.

One of them got lucky. Didn’t hit anything vital, but it fucking stings. Same spot that’s only just healed from last time. Maybe I should start wearing bulletproof vests.

I glance down at the mess around me. Cops will be here soon.

I send Maxim a message.

Four to collect. Make it snappy.

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