Page 9 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

For some reason, it reminds me of Father Josiah when he was angry. That didn’t happen often. But when it did, it was like a rolling storm that sent bolts of lightning down in every direction. Purposeful and merciless.

“…Who is the girl?”

His light blue eyes land on me.

I duck back behind the sleek leather armchair, but I don’t quite manage to make myself small enough to disappear completely.

“I already told you,” my protector growls. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“I find that hard to believe. You came here to kill me,” Ozol says. “Is the girl meant to be a distraction?”

“The girl is what I said she is,” he replies. “Just an innocent bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time. But you’re right about the first part—I’m exactly where I intended to be.”

I scream when the first gunshot pierces through the relative silence.

All I can register is fear.

Not for myself—but for the dark-haired man who decided to protect me when he could’ve fed me right to the beast.

I scramble forward, ignoring the voice in my head that’s telling me to stay put. I expect to see him on the floor, blood pouring from his body.

But I realize he hasn’t been hit at all.

He’s feinted to the side, his body moving with a grace that belies his massive stature.

“Mikal! Vlad!” Ozol screams as he fires off another round of bullets.

I look up in time to see my protector fling the knife in his hand. It twists through the air, with an aim so true that I marvel at the technique.

The knife bites into Ozol’s gun-wielding arm. His weapon clatters to the floor a few feet from me. My first instinct is to recoil from it. I’ve never held a gun in my life. I don’t intend to start now.

But fear is not an option. And despite the pounding in my head, I’m not naïve enough to believe that doing nothing is an answer.

I can’t bring myself to pick it up, so I kick the gun towards my protector. It spins across the floor, dragging in the carpet but still managing to get to within his reach.

His hand lances out so fast that by the time I’ve blinked, he’s grabbed the gun and bounced up on his feet.

I grip the broad back of the armchair and use it to pull myself upright. My legs are still weak and wobbly. The two guards that Ozol yelled for come hurtling in at the door. But Ozol has disappeared, leaving behind only a few droplets of his blood.

My protector shoots three times. The first bullet misses, but the second two both strike the first guard in the chest. He plummets to the ground immediately, leaving the path clear to the second guard.

The man’s features go slack with fear. He acts to survive, not to attack.

Unfortunately for me, I’m part of his plan.

He lunges to the side and grabs me, forcing me in front of him. My back is pressed against his chest, and now I’m facing my protector. Somehow, despite all the chaos erupting around me, that’s what keeps me calm.

Until the haze kicks in again. My vision blurs behind another bout of dizziness and his features swim before me for a moment.

“Let her go,” I hear him growl. “Or I will kill you slowly.”

“Let me go and I won’t hurt her,” the man behind me bargains.

My protector’s eyes narrow with dangerous promise. “You’re fucking with the wrong man,mudak.”

“Spare me and I’ll let her go,” he practically yells in my ear. “I swear it!”

“Very well,” my protector nods. “Let her go now.”

---