Page 70 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
“Cars!” Konstantin barked, yanking the door open.
“To the safe house—move!” Luka shouted.
I spun back to Irene. Her face was pale with horror.
“You stay here,” I ordered, my voice thundering. “You’re a liability.”
“No.” Her voice shook but held steady. “You don’t know what a trap is.Ido. You need me.”
I hesitated. Despite the confirmation that she’d been helping, I didn’t trust her. Not fully. But the fire in her eyes wasn’t a lie. She hated him. Maybe almost as much as I did.
“Fine,” I snapped. “Then move.”
We ran. Boots thundered across marble, echoing through the dead halls.
I climbed into the armored car, engine roaring alive, Luka and Konstantin in the convoy behind me. My food slammed down. Tires screamed against the wet pavement as we tore through the night.
The city blurred last in streaks of gray and yellow. My hands clenched the wheel, but my mind was burning with only one image: Katria, alone in the house.
“How long?” I shouted into the comms.
Static crackled, then Luka’s voice, sharp with fury: “We don’t know, Danil. We don’t know.”
I pressed harder on the gas, engine howling.
Feliks had used my love against me. Turned it into the perfect weapon.
But he’d made one mistake.
He’d given me something worth burning the world for.
Hold on, Katria, I swore in the silence of my chest.I’m coming. I’ll tear apart every man he sends. Just hold on.
Chapter 25 – Kat
The quiet hum of the safe house was a deceptive cocoon, a fragile skin stretched too thin over a storm. I sat curled on the sofa, a book open but unread on my lap, my mind drifting. Danil’s promises replayed in my head—his vow of revenge, the ink drying on the papers, the strange comfort of shared resolve. Outside, the rain softened to a fizzle, a tender echo of the calm in my chest.
And then, the world split open.
The front door crashed open, wood splintering like brittle bone. A shriek of the alarm carved through the silence, sharp enough to cut skin, ruthless. Then men swarmed inside, their faces swallowed by back balaclavas.
Gunfire erupted suddenly. The crack of shots, the howl of shattering glass, the desperate shouts of men. My body reacted before thought could catch up. The book slid from my lap as I bolted, feet slamming against hardwood, instincts roaring.
The bedroom door—just ahead. A sanctuary, maybe. My hand stretched, fingertips brushing cold metal—and then a hand seized me.
A crushing grip clamped around my arm, yanking me back, spinning me around so fast the breath was ripped from my lungs.
Blue eyes. Cold. Calculating. Familiar.
“Feliks,” I gasped, the name tearing from my throat.
He smiled—slow, cruel, predatory. “Running already, Katria? After all the effort I put into finding you?” His fingers tightened, bruising. His voice had lost its usual charm; it was now a guttural growl.“Not yet, dear. I just need a few more signatures. Then”—his smile sharpened—“you can be dead. A neat little end to the story.”
“No….” My voice cracked. Panic carved through me. Signatures? Even now? My mind struggled to make sense of it through the roar in my ears, the iron grip on my arm.
But then, salvation arrived like a lightning strike. A blur slammed into Feliks from behind. His hold on me shattered, the force knocking him forward. I stumbled back into the doorframe, clinging to it for balance, my eyes wide in disbelief.
Danil. His face was carved with rage, eyes blazing with a murderous light. He didn’t hesitate or speak. He simply moved, fists and fury.
