Page 76 of Beautifully Deranged

I duck behind the banister. Bullets fly. Glass explodes. Furniture splinters. I spot Mikhail’s backup piece still sitting on the dining table.

I shove Ayla forward. “Move.”

We sprint across the open space like hell is right behind us. A bullet catches the edge of a dining chair, spinning it. Another grazes Ayla’s arm—she yelps. I grab the gun, yank her by the collar, and slam the cold barrel against her temple.

She gasps, still crying. I step into the open, just far enough to make sure they’ll see me. Whoever’s shooting is watching.

“You listening, you fucks?” I scream.

Gunfire slows.

“I swear to god, one more bullet and her brains paint this wall.”

“L-Lola, please—”

“Shut up,” I hiss. I’ll shoot her if it means Mikhail walks out of this. I pitied her at first, back when I thought she was innocent in all of this. But now? With my man in danger? All I see is her father in her.

My heartbeat pounds in my ears. “You want her alive? Then back the fuck off.”

“I thought you were my friend,” Ayla whispers. She’s sobbing now. She really thinks we’re friends, just because I helped her once or twice. It’s kind of sad, honestly. She doesn’t get how the world works.

“Your Baba just sent men with machine guns into Bratva territory to collect you like a piece of lost luggage. Don’t talk to me about friendship.”

The bullets stop entirely.

I’ve never handled a gun before, but how hard can it be? Just point and pull the trigger. Roman’s eyes land on the gun pressed to Ayla’s temple. “What the fuck are you doing, Lola?! Get that gun off her!” His voice shakes the whole house.

“Both of you, go upstairs!”

I don’t even glance at him. My grip stays firm. The gun doesn’t move.

“You think the Pakhan’s gonna pull the trigger?” I snarl. “Maybe not. Maybe he knows the etiquette of whatever this war is.” I let Roman see the fire in my eyes. “But I don’t care. I’ll do it. I’ll blow her fucking head off.”

He storms over and tries to drag her toward the stairs, but I don’t let go. Through the haze of smoke and adrenaline, I find Mikhail’s eyes behind the couch, wild, locked on mine. I mouth the words to him.We’ve got each other’s backs.

He gives the faintest nod. He trusts me. Yeah, I hijacked the Bratva, sat at the table just because I’m his woman. Not at the highest seat, but it’s still a seat. And I’m playing this game on my terms, something even these monsters can’t manage. I know I’ve got Misha behind me.

I let Ayla go when minutes pass without a single bullet, shoving her to the floor. “Go. I’m done babysitting.”

She hits the ground hard, her knees scraping the wood. Roman’s already crouched beside her. “Ayla—”

She jerks from him and bolts. Her feet slip on the floor as she scrambles up the stairs.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Roman hisses at me.

I don’t care. Because the second she’s gone, Mikhail’s on me. He yanks me into him and we collide like magnets snapping back together. He holds me. Tight. And for a moment, the world disappears. I close my eyes against his shoulder and grip the back of his shirt. I can feel his heart hammering through his chest like it’s trying to escape. Just like mine. Roman stands on the stairs, panting, braced against the railing. He says nothing. He lets us have this.I break the moment.

“Everyone out!” I scream, whirling around. “Now! Sergei—get the fuck up! You too, Elena! Out!”

I may be brave, but not enough to challenge Roman’s command in a full room where no bullets are flying. No one else needs to witness this. Sergei nods and grabs thetwo younger men I didn’t even notice during the shootout. They vanish down the hallway. The maid follows.

Roman storms back. “You don’t know how this works, Lola. You never go against what the Pakhan says.”

I get in his face, fire roaring in my chest.

“I do now.”

“You listen—”

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