Page 50 of Forced Innocent Bride By the Bratva

My lips twitched at the corners, eyes darting toward a discarded gun on the floor. Casually, I strolled over there, picked it up, and checked the magazine. It was loaded. Returning to Ilya, I squatted in front of him, placing the barrel on his forehead. “They call me the devil for a reason, Ilya,” I whispered, my smirk retained. “You know why?” The question was rhetorical. “I never lose.”

He traced my gaze out the window where a vehicle pulled over in the compound. More of my men alighted, one carrying Scarlett over his shoulder. I saw the flicker of shock in Ilya’s eyes as he wondered what was happening.

“One of the benefits of being the devil is that you have people everywhere, eyes and ears, foot soldiers always ready for battle,” I explained, reveling in the fear dancing in his eyes. “Loyal men still exist, Ilya, and unfortunately, you’re not one of them.” I cocked the gun and whispered in his ear, “Betrayal is unforgivable,” then pulled the trigger.

His head snapped back at the loud bang, the bullet boring a hole in his skull, his brain splattering over the floor. Ilya’s limp body sagged against the table, his palm still pinned to the surface.

I rose to my feet and reached for the white handkerchief in my pocket, wiping my face, stained with droplets of his blood. I hated that I had killed him, but he left me with no choice. It had to be done.

My men barged into the room, their guns held up in front of them, and their watchful eyes scanned the place.

“Boss, are you okay?” Dmitry, one of them, asked with Scarlett’s body flung over his shoulder.

“I’m fine. How is she?” I questioned, approaching him, my heart filled with worry for her safety.

“She’s breathing, sir. Just passed out,” he said, his eyes settling on Ilya’s dead body. “I should’ve been here,” Dmitry added, regret and anger lacing his tone. “Ilya, he lied to us, tricked us into leaving the house.”

“How did you find her?” I asked, staring at Scarlet’s peaceful form, fingers caressing her hair.

“The maid, Sofiya, alerted me the moment the invasion began,” he explained. “Thankfully, we arrived just in time to save your wife from the maniac who’d kidnapped her….” His voice trailed off, his eyes drinking in the mess: the dead bodies and blood-stained floor. “Clearly not in time to stand by you.”

“Take her to the bedroom, Dmitry,” I said, exhaling softly. “And have this place cleaned up.”

“Yes, sir,” came his swift response as he signaled a few other men before leaving.

I stood there, triumphant, in the pool of blood and dead bodies, knuckles hurting, bleeding from the intense fight that almost claimed my life. The most important thing was that Scarlett was not just okay; she was still here…with me.

Chapter 26 – Scarlett

My eyes fluttered open with a slight pang at the back of my head. My body ached all over, and my eyes were heavy with blurry vision. A subtle groan escaped my lips as I finally came to, eyelids blinking, my vision clearing by the second.

I was still a little disoriented, a faint whisper ringing in my ear as I massaged the back of my head. My brain had yet to remember the incident that led me here, and my foggy thoughts were a tangled mess.

Then it hit me—the rapid gunfire.

My breath lodged in my throat, my eyes widening as my heart hammered in my chest, pounding like a drum. The last thing I remembered was Daniel shoving me over the table in his office immediately after those gunmen had invaded the room.

I recalled how I lay on the floor, helpless, shuddering, hands over my ears as bullets pelted the space, striking anything in their paths. The sound of gunshots was deafening, inflicting absolute fear into me while I lay there, shaking a leaf.

Daniel, alone, had fought back, protecting his territory, his form a rapid blur of movement. I remembered the wails that filled the air, the sickening sounds of bones cracking and flesh tearing. It was one man against, what? An army? I didn’t have the time to count the number of armed assailants, considering how busy I was trying to remain hidden.

It didn’t matter how many those men were; it was not a fair fight, but Daniel was fierce, strong, and fast. The little glimpse of the battle I caught was both scary and fascinating. I’d seen Daniel throwing heavy punches and nerve-shattering kicks at his opponents. I watched him break bones like mere twigs, his skull-crushing blows sending his enemies to the ground.

Blood spilled, staining the walls and floors as my husband—my protector, defending our home—fought back like a mighty man of valor. He was a beast, a ravaging animal, completely out of control. But the more he killed them, the more others came barging in.

One of them had walked straight to me, lifting me off the floor, and when I tried to resist, he struck the back of my neck. And just like that, I passed out. Oblivious to whatever happened next.

Now, here I was, in bed, facing a rather familiar ceiling. I looked around, drinking in the opulent and cozy interior. This was our bedroom—mine and Daniel’s.

What’s going on here?I wondered, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the cool marble floor.

Daniel. Oh, God, Daniel!

My eyes widened, my pulse quickening.

Before that man knocked me out, I had seen Daniel struggling beneath one of the attackers, who was pressing a knife against his face. Did he survive? Did Ilya and Liam win this battle, and had the mansion been taken over?

The mere thought of never seeing Daniel again charged my tear glands, my chest heaving as I refused to accept the idea. No. Daniel wasn’t a man to go down so easily. It was like the more I tried to convince myself that his death wasn’t possible, the more doubt crept into my heart.

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