Page 67 of Owned By the Russian

They bolted.

Behind them, the heavy slam of a door being thrown open echoed through the warehouse, followed by furious Irish voices.

“Get them!”

“Don’t fucking let them get away!”

The sharp crack of gunfire split the air.

Valentina ducked, dragging Irina with her as they sprinted toward the exit. Bullets ricocheted off metal, the deafening clang ringing in her ears, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t think.

Pure carnal adrenaline drove her forward.

She reached for the exit just as the two men rounded the corner, guns raised.

She spun, raised her own stolen weapon, and fired.

One shot, two?she didn’t know if she hit them, but it was enough to make them jerk back, enough to make them hesitate.

That was all she needed.

She shoved through the exit, hauling Irina out with her, and slammed the door shut. They were still somewhere in the warehouse, but at least they were away from them.

A split second later, fists pounded against the metal, shouts muffled through the thick frame, gunshots firing.

Valentina didn’t wait to see if they would break through. She grabbed Irina’s hand and ran.

Chapter 26 - Ilya

Ilya moved like a man possessed.

He could barely breathe. Could barely remember that he was a living, breathing person. In that moment, he was nothing more than a ravenous animal, hungry for blood, enthusiastic to kill.

The warehouse loomed ahead, dark and unforgiving, but he didn’t feel the cold night air, didn’t hear anything except the furious pounding of his heart. His vision narrowed, his pulse a violent drumbeat in his ears.

He was going to tear this place apart with his bare hands.

His brothers glanced at him, his cousins and their men moving in formation, a well-trained unit armed to the teeth. Valentina’s brothers were right there, too, just as murderous, just as ready to burn the world down for her.

Someone muttered, “We go in quiet?”

“Da poshlo ono nakhuy,” Ilya growled. He wasn’t in the mood for strategy. They’d find her, and whoever took her was going to die screaming. They and whatever family they had left.

The men moved in. Shadows stretched across rusted steel walls as boots hit the concrete in synchronized steps. The tension was suffocating, and Ilya’s mind spiraled.

His wife. His baby. If anything happened to any of them, he wouldn’t be able to live.

In the middle of his frightening thoughts, there was a blast.

Gunfire.

It shattered the air, and Ilya’s stomach dropped. His blood iced over, fingers tightening around his gun as panic clawed its way up his throat.

Valentina.

Valentina. Valentina. Valentina.

He didn’t think?he sprinted, his men right behind him.

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