Page 29 of A Secretary for the Bratva Boss
He's yanking her toward the stairwell door.
The arctic void opens. The world goes pristine, clear, and cold. All the noise—the traffic, the city, my own panic—it all vanishes. There is only one, simple, logistical problem.
A piece of garbage that needs to be taken out.
"Let. Her. Go."
The words are quiet. I hear them, a low vibration in my own chest.
The filth freezes. He looks at me. He's drunk. Ruined. And he doesn't let go. That's his first mistake.
"Mr. Ismailov," he stammers. "I… I… we were just talking…"
He's still touching her.
"You put your hands on her," I state. It's not a question. It's his death sentence.
"No, I… she… she's lying… she's aslut…"
That's his last mistake.
I don't lunge. I don't run. I simply... close the space.
My first punch is a short, brutal, piston-jab to his throat. Thelarynx.
A wet, gagging,gurglingsound. His eyes bulge. His hand flies from Talia's arm to his own neck.
Good. She's free.
My second punch is to his nose. I feel thecrackandgrindof bone and cartilage collapsing under my knuckles. It's so loud it echoes in the small foyer. Warm blood, thick and hot, sprays across my hand, my cuff.
He goes down, a sack of loose, unstrung meat.
He's not a man. He's anit. A thing that hurt what is mine.
I don't stop. I'm on him. My knee is on his chest, pinning him. He's on his back, trying to scream, but only choking on his own blood.
And I hit him.
It's not a fight. It's destruction. It's work.
My first fist connects with his orbital.Thud.
My second finds his jaw.Crack.
My third is a pulping, wet sound as it splits his lips and I feel his teeth give way.Thwack.
One. Two. Three. Four.
The sound is obscene. The wet slap of my fist on flesh that is no longer resisting. The coppery, metallic smell of his blood, so thick it's clogging the air. He isnothing. He is a lesson. He is a message to any other man who everthinksher name.
I am gone. This is the Pakhan. This is the cold, clean, empty part of me that is necessary.
And hetouched her.
I raise my fist again, this time for his temple. To finish. To end this.
"Anton, stop!"
