Page 166 of Bratva Bidder
He barrels in from the side, shouting over the chaos, rifle blazing as he takes down two of Alexei’s men trying to flank us. “Get him out of here!” he yells, voice raw. “They’ve got Nikolai! Go—GO!”
I try to stand, try to grab Nadya, but my legs buckle again. Lev’s at my side in seconds, shoving his shoulder under mine, half dragging me toward the hedges. Nadya runs ahead, checking corners, gun still tight in her grip.
“Where’s Nikolai?” I rasp.
“They took him,” Lev says, face grim, looking around. “Now’s not the time, we need to?—”
The air shatters again. And this time, the bullet finds its mark. It punches into Lev’s back with a sickening thud.
He jerks, choking. His knees buckle, and both of us collapse. He lands, dragging me with him.
“No,” I whisper, horror freezing my blood.
Blood soaks through his shirt, seeping between his fingers as he presses down, but I know it’s bad.
“Lev,” I say, grabbing his face. “Stay with me. Just stay. Please.”
He gives me a faint, bloody smile. “Guess…I still owed you…one last favor,” he whispers.
“No,” I shake my head, throat burning. “No, you don’t get to die, you stubborn son of a bitch.”
His hand grips mine, weakly. “Protect…them…”
His eyes go glassy. Then still.
I scream. I don’t know if it comes out loud or just inside my head. Nadya is sobbing, both of us leaning over him. We’re vulnerable, but nobody is shooting at us.
The night splits with the roar of engines.
Tires screech against gravel. Headlights slice through the darkness as black SUVs storm the driveway. My men—those who survived, those who are loyal—pour out like a tide of vengeance. Gunfire erupts again, but it’s not aimed at us this time. It’s covering us. Driving them back. I see flashes of familiar faces—Maksim, Anton—shouting orders, fanning out like shadows with purpose.
But it doesn’t matter.
None of it matters.
Because I already know the truth.
They can push Alexei’s men back. They can surround the estate and reclaim every inch of the bloodstained ground. They can stand guard over what’s left of the guests, secure every hallway, sweep every floor. They can hold the perimeter all night long if they want.
But they can’t undo this.
They can’t bring my father back.
They can’t save Lev.
They’ve taken my son.
My father is dead.
My most loyal man—my friend—is gone.
Blood pools around us, soaking into Lev’s shirt, into the ground.
I sit there, staring at the emptiness, feeling nothing but the scream inside me. I’ve lost everything.
EPILOGUE
NADYA
