Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Running toward the back door, I threw my tactical knife at another enforcer’s eye. It sank home, cutting down another before he could spray his Kalashnikov or warn the Mikhailovs about this impending breach. Perfect. Let them believe the Resnovs’ treachery had brought this storm. Let them feed each other their own bullets while I slipped behind, unseen.
Vassili? I’d soon watch him defenseless in the yard, bullets whining past his ears, while in the window above, his precious Natasha appeared—caught, cornered, mine. He’d get a grand view of me stealing his most cherished asset.
Today, I would not fail.
I slowed, approaching the door. It creaked open, ancient iron hinges betraying the old stone house. Inside, the halls smelled of wax and damp stone. Two more Mikhailov brutes stood watch at the stairwell. I shot them with my silencer before they had time to curse.
Room by room, I advanced—death on each threshold. A guard in the library gurgled on his own tongue. Another, crouched at a window, didn’t hear me before the bullet entered his skull. My magazine grew lighter, the air heavier with copper. I pressed on, hunger sharpening with every kill.
At last—her voice. Muffled. Strained.
I followed it, pulse roaring in my ears. A half-open door glowed with sunlight. Inside—her. Natasha. My Natasha. Alive. Breathing. Sitting rigid, tied to a velvet chair, as a man with long pale blond hair crouched beside her.
My heart clenched—joy and fury colliding in a violent storm. Relief that the Mikhailovs hadn’t retaliated against her already. Rage that another man dared touch her. The obsession that had devoured me for years surged hot and choked in my throat. I stepped into the doorway, weapon raised. I murmured, “And she will be mi…” I pulled the trigger.
Click.
Empty.
Natasha’s eyes met mine—wide. Terrified, glittering with disbelief.
In that frozen second, I stood between triumph and ruin. I had found her. She was here, mine for the taking. But realization burned hot and threatened to swallow me whole … No more bullets.
55
NATASHA
“Hold still,” Edik whispered, fumbling with the knots at my wrists. He’d rushed into the room minutes ago. Saw me bound and commenced the apologies. As he searched the dresser by the window for something sharp, he’d told me of Pop’s arrival.
Now, hunched with a steel nail file, Edik’s long hair—so blond it reminded me of Borya’s, my fri … my old guard’s deceit—brushed his face.
Jesus, I doubted Your love after getting raped.
I’d lost every shred of faith, and here I was, like so many others. In the frying pan and praying … Please, please, please save me.
Edik glanced up at me through wheat-colored lashes that fanned wide. So soft. Pop was delusional every time he’d appraised Edik Mikhailov’s protection as more worthy than Lachlan’s. I wish Pop saw Lachlan’s influence on me. All he’d done for me.
“Natasha, I have meant to apologize for my remarks. For all of it. Sima showed me those images of you in a hospital bed after we enjoyed tea, I-I repaid your kindness with—”
“Doesn’t matter.” I snorted. Later, when she moved in with us, my cousin shared why she had shown him the images. She wanted to save me. Remove me from the contract. “We’re not reliving how I overheard you complain that Lev stuck you with the sick one. Just help me out of the restraints your psycho father put me in!”
“I am.” He growled, taking the old nail file to yet another zip tie. “But hear me out. I had polio as a child, Natasha! I tried … to tell you when I agreed to nullify the contract. We both should marry for love. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Please accept my apology.”
Polio? It wasn’t as prominent in Russia anymore but still could be deadly for children. “Oh?” My shock resonated sharper than the echo of gunfire from outside. “Thanks for being honest, and for helping me while your family hides in the attic. They left me here.”
Snap. Another zip tie loosened. “You think it’s this Lorenzo person?”
I nodded. “You said my father was walking toward the house. No issues, right? Someone shot from a distance?”
“Da.”
“Hurry, Edik. So, I can stop waiting for a bullet! We gotta reach your father and have him call off his guards. My father will if he will. My family’s more honorable than yours.” I cracked a smile.
With a smirk playing on his lips, Edik prepared a teasing retort, but the door creaked open.
My breath locked in my chest.
“And she will be m…” Click. The soldier filled the doorway like some nightmare carved out of shadow and obsession. Wild-eyed, hair damp and unkempt from sweat. His chest rose and fell with the raggedness of a man who’d murdered many on his way.
Yet his gaze locked on me, and only me.
I froze. My lungs forgot how to move. My wrists throbbed against the myriad of restraints Lev Mikhailov ordered his henchmen to use on me.