Page 89 of Silken Chains
I grit my teeth, loading my gun with steady hands. “I’m getting married today,” I mutter, more to myself than to Misha. “And no fucking mudak is going to stop me.”
Misha laughs, a wet, gurgling sound that turns into a cough. “Give ‘em hell, boss,” he rasps, his eyes glinting with fierce pride.
I nod, my jaw set.
I burst from cover, firing with deadly precision.
One, two, three men drop, their bodies crumpling to the ground.
But they keep coming, bullets whizzing past my head, biting into the metal at my back. I’m running out of time, out of options.
Misha’s still firing, his aim true even as his life bleeds out onto the frozen ground. “Suka blyad!” he roars, taking down two more before his gun clicks empty.
I’m down to my last clip, my last chance. Ivan’s men are almost on us, their shadows looming like death itself.
And then I hear it—the roar of engines, the screech of tires. Headlights pierce the darkness, blinding in their intensity.
This is it, I think, my heart thundering. This is how it ends.
But I’ll be damned if I go down without a fight. Without giving these mudaks a taste of their own medicine.
I look at Misha, my brother-in-arms, my loyal friend. He meets my gaze, a silent understanding passing between us. We both know the odds are stacked against us, that this might be our last stand.
But we’re Bratva. We don’t surrender, we don’t back down. We fight until our last breath, until our bones are dust and our blood runs cold.
I take a deep breath, Laura’s face burning bright in my mind.
She’s waiting for me, counting on me to come back to her.
And I will. I’m going back to Laura, even if I have to crawl out of my own grave to do it.
I grip my gun tighter, my finger hovering over the trigger.
“Ya ne sdalus’ bez boya,” I mutter, the words like steel on my tongue. “I won’t go down without a fight.”
Misha grins, a feral, bloodstained thing. “Da, boss. Let’s give ‘em hell.”
Chapter 33
Laura
I KNOW he’s there even before I see him.
My body tenses up, all instincts on alert for trouble.
As I come to, the room’s dark and I’m not by myself.
My heart thumps loudly in my chest as I take in the figure standing by the bed.
Victor.
He stands tall and foreboding, a dark silhouette against the dim nightlight. His piercing gaze never wavers from me as he looms over the bed, naked, every defined muscle on his bare chest is glistening with sweat and ready for action.
A shiver runs through my body as my nipples harden under the soft cashmere robe, aching for his touch.
“Victor,” I gasp, feeling exposed and vulnerable in just my flimsy panties and robe on top of the sheets. He stands there, silent and unmoving, but I can see the raw desire burning in his eyes.
“Why… why are you here?”
