Page 63 of Tangled Souls

Huck, Maxim, and Wolfe go in the other direction so they can approach from the front. There are no sounds from their footsteps as we break off. My brother won’t let anything happen to the men who are my family. I trust him to have their backs and to see this through.

I bet Wolfe is a little afraid Oaklynn would have his balls if anything were to happen to them.

Two of the guards are talking, their heads close together, as if danger isn’t lurking in the shadows. The way they’re far too lax tells me that my gut was right—this is just Mikhail being lazy and thinking he was untouchable. They aren’t even facing where a threat could be coming from.

With their backs to us, I share a look with Hendrix who nods. The movement is silent when I pull my knife free from the sheath and crouch as we get closer. I can almost feel how pissedoff Kirill is that there are only two guys for the three of us to take down.

But his time to fucking shine is coming.

My movements are fluid death as I grip the guard I’ve targeted by the back of the head, wrench it back, and slice his throat. Blood sprays the back of the house, the kill silent.

An owl hoots in the distance like their deaths are being marked.

I lower the guard to the ground and Hendrix does the same next to us before we silently advance up the back porch steps. My eyes turn toward Hendrix who holds up five fingers. The countdown is steady and on one, he kicks in the back door.

The sound is echoed by the front door being breached in exactly the same way. In the distance a woman screams followed by a man’s voice. It’s too muffled and low to discern what he’s saying, but we don’t need to know.

We quickly clear the rooms as we head toward the front of the house. I pause when looking into the laundry room and see Aamon’s body in a heap on the floor. He’s covered in blood, but the lack of any surrounding him tells me he was just dumped in this room to be out of the way.

I meet Maxim’s eyes as we converge near the stairs. His eyes are devoid of any emotion. They’re an endless black filled with rage.

When I look over his shoulder, I see Betty’s prone figure laid out in the living room. She’s naked and her lifeless eyes are staring, unseeing, at the ceiling. The proof of the beating she took mars her skin; even at a distance, I can see the hand shaped marks around her neck.

The only thing I can do is shake my head and look away. She meant nothing to me. She betrayed our woman and us.

Still, she had a chance to leave Seattle. Instead, she probably ran right to Mikhail thinking he was going to back her.

Stupid woman.

I shake my head as the sound of shuffling upstairs pulls our attention, the thought of Betty overshadowed by the promise of grabbing Mikhail.

Hendrix takes point, and we fall in line behind him easily. Since it’s no secret that someone has breached the house, we move quickly but not silently.

Just as we crest the stairs, another scream comes from a bedroom. We fan out, clearing the other rooms first before finding ourselves in front of the only one left.

Wolfe kicks in the door and we pour into the room, taking in the scene and fanning out with our guns raised and locked onto the target. Mikhail’s mouth is stretched into a sinister grin as he holds the prostitute in front of him like a shield.

“Fucking coward,” Huck mutters under his breath.

I look the woman over to see if she’s injured, but the only thing I can see are some track marks in her arms. The way her eyes are glazed over and barely seeing tells me that she’s riding some kind of high, even if it’s not a good trip.

“He’s going to kill me,” she rasps, but there’s no fear in her words.

She might have screamed, but I’m sure it’s not the first time one of her…clients hurt her. She has a look about her, one that says she’s seen too much and felt too little. Pity is all I feelfor her. It’s not an emotion I’m all that familiar with, but she’s earned it.

Mikhail’s hand shakes a little as he holds a gun to the woman’s head. The problem is that his leverage is shitty. It’s not my hands this woman’s blood will be on if he pulls the trigger. His soul is the only one that would be tarnished.

“You fucked up, Mikhail,” Kirill’s voice is cold and taunting.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Mikhail tries to sound bigger and tougher than he is.

Kirill snorts, “Why? Because you have four guards?” Mikhail ducks a little bit behind the woman, like it’ll save him. “They’re already dead. You’re next,” he promises.

Mikhail roars, “Fuck you, Volkov.”

He shifts slightly and I see the moment. Time slows down. As he goes to pull the trigger, I’m ready.

Two shots ring out at the same time.

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