Page 82 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
“There’s no way to go without them seeing us,” I whisper back. Tikhon looks around and then winces, realizing I’m right on my assessment.
“On the count of three?” I ask.
“Count of three,” he whispers.
We raise our guns in the air and barge onto the floor, taking them by surprise. It’s quick work, killing off the four men, but we need Micky Kuznetsov alive to get to Arina.
He tries to run, but Tikhon puts a bullet in his leg, dropping him where he stands.
“Where is she?” Tikhon demands as he gets on his haunches and presses his gun to Kuznetsov’s head.
“Fuck you,” the man spits back.
I hear gunfire from another part of the warehouse. There must be others coming, and while our men are holding them back, we can’t waste any time. We need to get Arina out safe.
“Tell us now.” I grab Kuznetsov by the throat and put a knife to his throat, “or I’ll let her brother show you what happens to men who touch his sister.”
When he doesn’t answer, I dig in a little until there’s a trickle of blood pooling down his throat.
Finally, fear flickers in his eyes. “Upstairs. She’s in the first room on the left.”
I’m already moving toward the stairs, but I hear a gunshot. When I turn, I see his dead body.
Tikhon runs up the stairs to catch up with me.
“What?” he glowers. “Too harsh?”
“For trying to sell her first and taking her now? Not harsh enough,” I say as I mean it.
I believe this is the first time in my entire existence that Tikhon smiles at me.
We reach upstairs to the room Micky told us to get to, but find the door locked.
I kick it open, and we rush inside to find Arina lying on a small cot. Her wrists are bound, and her face is pale.
“Arina,” I breathe, rushing to her side. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused and cloudy. They’ve drugged her heavily.
“Is she okay?” Tikhon pushes past me, kneeling beside the cot.
I check her pulse—steady, if a bit slow. And god, she’s so, so cold. “She’s drugged, but alive. We need to get her out of here.”
Arina’s eyes fix on Tikhon’s face, and something in my chest tightens painfully. “Tik-hon,” she murmurs, her voice slurred. Her hand reaches up, fingers trembling as they touch his cheek with such tenderness it makes my throat close up.
“I’m here, little bird,” he says softly, using what must be an old nickname. “You’re safe now.”
She smiles at him, a genuine smile full of love and relief, and I feel something inside me shatter. This is her family. Her blood. No matter what they’ve done, they share a bond I can never touch.
I cut the ropes binding her wrists, careful not to let my fingers linger on her skin. “Can you carry her?” I ask Tikhon softly.
He looks surprised but nods. “Of course.”
I give him space, and he lifts her into his arms. She nestles against his chest, her eyes closing again. The sight feels like a knife between my ribs, but I force myself to breathe through it.
“Take her,” I say quietly. “She needs her family right now.”
Tikhon stares at me, confusion replacing the hostility in his eyes. “You’re just going to let us walk out with her?”
“Yes.” My hands feel numb, but I feel a warmth in my chest from the sacrifice I’m making. “This isn’t about our feud anymore. It’s about what’s best for her.”
