Page 162 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

I narrow my eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“A statement of fact,” he shrugs. “You’re messing with the wrong people.”

“Do you mean Victor Ozol?”

Sakamoto stiffens. “I don’t know that name.” An obvious lie. One that’s so obvious that he doesn’t even bother trying to make it convincing.

“Forgive me if I call bullshit,” I say. “Why are you working with him?”

“Why ask questions?” he asks. “You’re about to die.”

“You’ve got that backwards,” I tell him. “You’re the one who’s going to die tonight.”

He doesn’t give himself away. Nothing about his body language or his expression betrays him. But my superpower has always been my instinct.

And it doesn’t fail me now.

I lurch to the left in the second before he fires. The bullet passes so close beside my face that I feel the pressure of air just next to my cheek. My ears are ringing.

By the time I pivot around, my gun is out and raised. I fire twice, forcing him to retreat against the corner of the balcony and reposition.

He tries to duck back into the room but I shoot again, forcing him to stay on the balcony. One more squeeze of the trigger, and this time, my bullet strikes gold. It buries itself in his arm. His gun drops immediately, and before he can grab it again, I lunge forward and kick it out of his reach. It goes skittering to the edge of the balcony and falls over, forty stories down.

I take the opening to pistol-whip him in the jaw with my weapon. He crumbles to the floor, but he recovers quickly. From the marble floors, he looks up at me, though there’s not a drop of fear in his expression.

At least, not yet.

“You’ve underestimated me,” I tell him.

“No, we haven’t,” he replies. “Why do you think we’re working to take you down? We don’t go after small fish.”

“Well, consider me flattered.”

He shakes his head. “Killing me won’t change anything. They will destroy you and everything you hold dear—again.”

The threat hits me harder than I expect. Elyssa’s face flashes across my eyes. Then the boy’s.

“Not if you start answering my questions.”

He spits blood onto the white marble. “Torture will not make me talk.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Before I can ask my next question, he kicks my legs, causing me to stumble back and land hard on my spine. Even with his wounded arm gushing blood, the man moves with a speed and power that I can’t help but be impressed with.

He pounces on top of me and attempts to wrestle the gun out of my hand. I bring my elbow up and hit him in the face. He shakes off the hit and goes for my gun again.

The scrabble sends my weapon flying back towards the interior of the hotel. So now I’m weaponless and in a terrible position. The blood from Sakamoto’s wound is dripping into my face, blinding me. At the same time, he’s raining swift elbows down on my face and throat.

I swing recklessly, hoping to make contact. But he blocks or dodges every punch.

And then his hands find my throat. For such a slender man, his grip is powerful.

He bears down, putting his entire body weight into the strangulation. But I’m still confident I can fight him off. I just need a little more time.

I just need to—

I see the hand at the last moment.

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