Page 81 of Trapped By the Bratva

I felt anxious and nervous. The further I walked into this crummy place, I felt certain that I was walking into a bad situation. Coming to deal with my sister was already a shitty thing to face, but I was on edge.

“Melissa?”

I stepped toward her bedroom, feeling like a moron to ever consider giving in and helping her out with money. Again. She was too good at taking advantage of me, and I needed Dmitri’s help to stop that pattern.

As I came near the door, I registered a blur in my peripheral vision. Working in the ER had trained me to always be on guard in iffy situations. I’d dealt with my fair share of neurotic or unhinged patients trying to get physical with me when they were brought in. Psych patients off their meds. Irate or emotional family members. It was a zoo some days, and it was with that training and practice that I knew to deflect this man rushing at me to capture me.

I slammed my elbow into his face as he ran at me, but by the time I finished the self-defense-modeled spin away from him, I was caught again by another man.

“This is her?” an older man demanded from the other side of the room. He lifted a gun and pointed it at me.

Melissa stared at me, her eyes wide with fear. Another man stood next to her with his gun pressed to her temple. The beefy guard behind her kept her trapped in a chokehold.

“Is this your sister?” the man asked her.

She nodded, and both men eyed me up and down. I trembled as my body took over with the flood of adrenaline buzzing in me. Fight or flight kicked in, and I doubted I could pull off the latter. I was held back. Thick, grimy fingers manacled my upper arms. I didn’t think I could fight back, either. Not with the chance of getting hurt. If I was pregnant, I had to protect my baby.

Six men stood in this tiny room, and I knew my odds were terrible.

Please. Please find my note, Dmitri. Please be on your way.

I should’ve called him. Texted him. Hell, I should’ve just opened that damn door to their meeting and interrupted to tell them that my sister was contacting the Avilov men. That was who they’d been after, anyway.

Now, I was screwed. I had to stall and wait for Dmitri to come—him and his brothers. They always worked as a unit.

Unlike me and Melissa. As my heart raced and my mind blurred with fear, I knew that she’d set me up.

“You’re the woman with Dmitri?” the tall one asked.

“I’ll handle her,” the older man argued, stepping forward.

“I don’t fucking think so, Sergei.” One of the taller man’s guards approached Sergei.

Sergei… Kastava?The names sounded familiar. I’d heard so many foreign names since being with Dmitri that I couldn’t remember the significance of who this man was.

“This was the deal. We get her to come. You handle the others, and I get their women.” Sergei snarled at me. “That motherfucking bastard took my daughter and made a mockery of me, so I’ll?—”

The window behind them crashed in. A body dropped in, and the man dressed in SWAT gear rolled to an efficient kneel, aiming his weapon at the man with Melissa. More men filed in. They came so quickly, everything merged as a too-fast change of action.

Officers came in through the windows, dropping into the basement level apartment. Behind me, Alek hurried in with Valkov guards. One shot from Alek’s gun landed a bullet between Sergei’s eyes. More men grappled with the tall man and his guards.

The second that a pair of hands took hold of my upper arms, I sucked in a hard breath and prepared to attack. Was this a sting? A rescue?

As I whirled around, my fist ready to punch, I saw Dmitri crouching and urging me to leave with him.

“Dmitri!” I lowered my arm and hurried toward him. As I ducked and exited the room, praying that no bullet reached us, I ended up helping him hobble out. He’d dropped his cane, but once we got out of the bedroom and through the nasty living room, he slowed with a steadier, though limping, gait.

“Are you okay?” He pulled me into his arms in the hallway as more and more men rushed into the apartment. Bratva guards. Agents and officers.

“I’m—yes.” I framed his face and checked that he wasn’t hurt.

As gunfire popped off from within, we turned in unison, frowning. “What about Alek?” I asked.

“He’s—” Dmitri lifted his head in a nod of acknowledgment. “He’s right there.”

Alek walked up, his face as stern and serious as ever. “You’re all right?” he checked.

I nodded, shaky but unharmed.

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