Page 33 of Bratva Prince
Wait a minute that means she was in the crash. Shit, she’d better not be dead. I need her for my plan.
Where the hell was Andrey?Pleasetell me the son of a bitch made it out alive. He may be one of my newer recruits, but he was a damn good man.
I recounted the crash to the best of my ability: drugged Willow, spoke with Andrey, spoke to Willow.
Shit. I forgot about that one-sided conversation, but I couldn’t get hung up on that now.
I remembered the oil pressure dropping. The right engine caught on fire. Andrey was forced to dead-stick the landing.
Maybe it sounded crazy, but the crash felt personal, as if the universe itself were cursing me for being alive, and for doing what I’ve done.
I looked around, seeing nothing but ocean, sand, and trees. The front half of my plane was on the ground, while the half I was in dangled in the trees. I had to get out of these straps, but the fall was about 10 feet.
Son of a bitch, this is going to hurt.
My fingers rested on the buckle, and I took a deep breath, blowing out slowly before I released myself from the seat, turning my body to the side to lighten the potential damage from impact.
My body hit the ground. Hard. And it hurt like a mother, but at least I was alive. Now, to check the other two.
The plane’s wings were gone, no doubt ripped off by the trees. One wing was partially there, which probably caused it to turn enough to hit the plane in the center where it split, leaving my half to get stuck in the tree limbs.
Damn.
No more plane, which meant bye-bye easy transportation.
“Andrey!” I called out, making my way toward the front end of the plane. “Andrey, you there?”
Climbing into the wreckage, I found Andrey’s body in his seat. I shook him gently, calling his name. When he didn’t answer, I released him from his seat and—with great difficulty, I might add—managed to pull his body out of what was left of the plane.
When I had him laid out in sand, under the shade, I shook him again, this time more aggressively. “Andrey, you bastard. Wake up!”
Check his pulse, idiot.
Nothing.
No beat.
My body slid down to the ground as I stared out at the ocean.Fuck, man. Andrey’s dead.I said it out loud, “Andrey’s dead,” as if solidifying the information. “Andrey’s dead,” I repeated, again and again until the words made sense.
But that was it, they didn’t make sense. How could he be dead?
I knew how, I just didn’t want to believe it.
In my business, people die. It was a fact that was almost too consistent to take seriously. I’ve killed countless men, but losing a man of my own—one that I’d grown close to… Well, it fucking sucked.
Tears fought control to spill over, and as hard as I forced it back, they were relentless, unstoppable.
I allowed myself a minute of grief for my fallen comrade, then swiped away the tears and stood. If I wanted to survive, then I needed to think rationally. There would be time for emotions when I was sitting alone in my shelter after nightfall.
Alone. Again.
Shit, Willow! I’d been so caught up with Andrey, I’d forgotten about her. I ran back to the tree and squinted my eyes, trying to make out her body. I couldn’t tell the condition, but I could see her blonde hair draped over her face. Her head hung down and her body was limp, so I climbed the wreckage and the tree to get a better assessment.
I don’t think I have the strength to move two bodies today.
When I tried to step back into the half of the plane that was suspended in the air, it started to tip. Once I heard the crack in the tree limbs, I worried it might crash to the ground. Sure, the fall wasn’t far, but if she was injured, it could exacerbate her injuries.
I reached out, clinging onto the tree trunk as I smacked her face a few times. Not as hard as I’d like to smack her, but enough to try to wake her. “Willow!”
