Page 142 of Twisted Pact
“And this is for making me kill you on my fucking front lawn.”
I squeeze harder until I feel his windpipe collapse beneath my arm. His body goes limp, but I hold the pressure for another thirty seconds to be sure.
When I finally release him, he crumples to the ground. Dead.
I stand over his corpse and try to catch my breath. My ribs scream with every inhale. Warm wetness spreads through my shirt.
I’m so full of adrenaline that I almost don’t hear Dmitri’s voice behind me.
I turn to find my brother standing at the garden entrance with his weapon lowered. He takes in the scene. Novikov’s body. The blood. My condition.
“It’s done,” I tell him.
He nods. “The rest of his men are either dead or running. Boris is coordinating cleanup.”
“Casualties?”
“Two of ours dead. Five wounded. Could have been worse.”
I look back at Novikov’s body. He’s the man who orchestrated all the threats, the kidnappings, and the constant danger that has defined our lives for months.
Gone.
Dawn breaks as we walk back to the house. The sky lightens from black to deep purple to orange. I make my way through thedestroyed house to my office. Input the code to open the safe room. The door swings open, and I descend the stairs.
Mila and Katya are huddled on the couch. My sister-in-law is stroking Mila’s hair, promising everything will be okay. They jump up when they see me.
“Alexei.” Mila rushes forward, and her eyes go wide when she sees the blood. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“That’s not nothing.” She reaches for my shirt, but I catch her hands.
“It’s over,” I tell her. “Novikov is dead. His men are scattered. The threat is gone.”
She searches my face. “Really? It’s over?”
“Yes.”
Her legs give out as I catch her and pull her against me. She trembles in my arms, all the fear and stress of the past months finally releasing in one shuddering breath.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair.
Dmitri appears on the stairs, and Katya is in his arms within seconds. My brother looks as exhausted as I feel. “We should all get checked by the doctor.”
“In a minute,” I tell him.
He nods and leads Katya back upstairs.
I hold Mila in the safe room surrounded by reinforced concrete and emergency supplies. Hold her like I’ll never let go. Because I won’t.
I clear my throat and say, “I need to ask you something.”
She pulls back to look at me. “What?”
I take her hands in mine. They’re clean, while mine are stained with blood and gunpowder. The contrast is stark. She’s everything good in this world, and I’m everything dark.
But she’s mine anyway.
