Page 94 of Vengeful King

We’re getting close to his place near the docks, so I instruct Aiden to turn the headlights off and slow the car just a little. The last thing I want is the entire place knowing we’re coming up on them. As Aiden drives, we arm ourselves, dropping one of the back seats to reach into the trunk.

“Things could get dicey,” Aiden says calmly. “But we all know how to handle this. Don’t panic and we’ll be fine.”

I know he’s saying it for his benefit as much as ours. It’s been a while since we went in guns blazing, but this kind of thing requires more finesse. We have to be careful not to screw ourselves over. There are twenty men and only four of us; even if we call backup, we’ll have to handle it alone before they arrive.

We pull up close to the building and get out as quietly as we can. The others pile out of the car, and I prepare myself, holstering the guns I need and thinking about what the inside of the building might look like.

My brothers follow me around the side of the building as we prepare to break in. There are no words exchanged anymore; we don’t need them. We know what we have to do.

I think of Katrina one last time, of how much she was hurting from her mother’s death and the chaos that followed it. I think of her holding me, and I think about how much I wanted to be the only one to comfort her.

I’m coming for you,I promise silently.And I’ll end anyone who’s tried to hurt you.

CHAPTER33

Katrina

I barely keep track of what’s happening between the gun being torn from my hands and Yuri’s guards grabbing me. When struggling doesn’t work and I know I have no chance of escape, I give in—but part of me still doesn’t want to be beaten.

Part of me wants to find a way again. Part of me isn’t satisfied that he’s not dead; part of me is utterly disappointed that I wasn’t able to do it right the first time.

But I couldn’t kill Lachlan when we were alone. How did I ever think I could kill Yuri?

He’s still bleeding from the gunshot wound, the one I put there. His hand is clamped over his shoulder, stemming the flow of blood.

Hisrightshoulder. I didn’t shoot the right side, the one where his heart is. I can’t believe myself.

But seeing Yuri bleed is satisfying. It’s a reminder that in the end, he’s just a man. A man that won’t live forever. He has numbered days, and maybe I’ve made that number smaller today. That has to count for something.

He’s obviously hurt, but more than pain, I see anger in his face. He’s pissed.

I never should have come this close. His men should have guaranteed that. But I did—I managed to get in, get an audience with him, and steal a gun. I shot him, something I’m sure not many men have done. This is no longer about our deal or about his feud with Lachlan. This is about what happened just seconds ago.

I cracked him. And he won’t let me live, now.

He looks at me with pure venom in his eyes. I would pull back from him if I could, but his guards hold me there. They keep me locked in place as he strides toward me.

He backhands me, hard, his hand slapping across my face. I feel my head jerk with the force of it and I’m almost reeling, dizzy, held in place by the sheer strength of the men on either side of me.

But despite the shock of it and the pain that lances through me, I still have the energy to spit in his face.

I’m terrified of dying.

But more than that, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of cowering.

I’m not going to shrink from him.

I keep thinking about my mother. She died helplessly, alone in a hospital bed, already wracked by the disease that was slowly eating at her. Even if she was awake, she wouldn’t have known the danger until it was too late.

And she wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it.

I refuse to let Yuri kill me the same way. I refuse to let him sneak, to let him smother me when I can’t fight. That’s not how I’m going to go.

“I would never work for you,” I growl.

I don’t think before I say it. I just spit it at him, fuming, angry that he’s still breathing and upright. I wanted so badly for him to fall.

Yuri just glares at me with fire in his eyes. “You forget—”

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