Page 97 of Bratva Bride
“No funny business or I put a bullet in you right here,” I say, voice flat.
He raises his hands in surrender, backing away from the glass. Arman appears in the next room, eyes hard but unafraid, stopping in the doorway.
“Hands where I can see them,” Maksim orders, sweeping the room for any others.
Arman’s eyes flick from Maksim to me. “Are you here to kill me?” he asks, voice steady.
I shake my head, lowering the barrel just a hair. “You raised Nadya. You’re the reason she’s the person she is. I’m not here to hurt you, Arman. I’m here for help.”
He studies me for a long moment, weighing my words, then nods once, slow and resigned.
Rifat’s whisper breaks through my focus as we watch the guards from our hiding place. “You know, I never understood one thing—how did you find us that night?”
I allow myself a small smirk as I edge forward. “Simple. I put a tracking device in your car.”
Rifat shakes his head, barely hiding a smile of his own, and I move out of the shadows, eyes fixed on the path ahead, ready for whatever comes next.
We slip forward, pressed tight against the hull as the ship groans above and below us, every shadow shifting with the movement of men. Arman signals us to fan out. I move ahead, biting down against the pain in my thigh, my heart beating louder than my footsteps.
The two guards ahead are talking, oblivious, their rifles slung too casual for the kind of night this is. I duck under a pipe, catch Arman’s eye, and we move as one. He takes the man on the left. I come up behind the right, clapping a hand over his mouth and dragging him back into the darkness. He thrashes—an elbow catches my wound and I almost drop him, but rage steadies me. I slam his head against the steel bulkhead and he goes limp, body crumpling.
Arman dispatches his man with brutal efficiency. Rifat follows, covering us as we drag both bodies behind a crate, out of sight.
We don’t speak. Every noise could bring more. We press on.
A clang from above. I look up and catch the glint of a gun barrel, barely a silhouette. I gesture—Arman covers the ladder, Rifat moves left, and I take the right, scaling up onto the next deck with a grunt of pain.
Suddenly, a figure lunges from the darkness. I don’t see the knife until it’s almost in my side. I twist, catching the blade on my forearm, the edge biting through my sleeve but not deep. I grab the attacker’s wrist, wrench hard, and knee him in the gut. He crumples, gasping. Rifat finishes him with a sharp blow to the head.
We pause, listening. A distant cry echoes through the hull. I freeze—Nikolai? Nadya?
Arman’s hand on my shoulder brings me back. “This way.”
We move fast now, following the maze of corridors, past flaking paint and leaking pipes. There’s blood smeared on a door handle up ahead. My heart hammers. I push inside and the smell of old sweat and iron fills my nose.
Maksim is there, slumped against the wall, head lolling. I drop to my knees beside him, checking his pulse. Still breathing. No gunshot wound, just a purple welt forming above his temple. Someone knocked him out, but didn’t finish the job.
I pat his cheek. “Maksim,” I whisper, urgent. “Come on. Wake up.”
He groans, eyelids fluttering.
Arman steps over, scanning the corners. “What happened?”
“No idea.” I glance back to the hall, remembering the gunshot I heard earlier. The memory needles at me. There’s no blood on Maksim, no sign of a struggle. Where the hell did that shot come from?
Rifat covers the door, keeping us shielded. I grab Maksim by the collar, hauling him upright. He blinks, unfocused but alive.
There’s no time to linger.
We leave Maksim propped against the wall, still dazed but breathing. There’s no time to argue or drag him along. Rifat checks the rear, Arman gestures for me to move. Every step down the corridor grates on my nerves, the regret twisting deeper in my gut.
I can’t stop thinking about the decision that put Nadya in here alone. The plan had never sat right with me. I can hear her voice as if she’s right beside me…
“I don’t like this,” I say, my hand tight on the encrypted receiver, staring out my apartment window as the city lights blink back, uncaring. “I should be there, with you.”
“It’s a trap, Konstantin. You know it is,” she replies, her voice steady, but underneath I hear the fear she won’t show anyone else. “That’s why I have to go alone.”
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t,” I say, anger and worry vying in my throat. “You’re not alone in this anymore.”
