He fires two shots. They both miss, but they succeed in drawing Desya’s attention. “Missed me, huh?” He smirks, returning fire.
“Like one misses the plague.”
As if on cue, an army of suited men swarms the lot, headed by a limping Kazimir.Yulian’s reinforcements,I realize.
We trade glances. Yulian gives an imperceptible nod as he and Desya circle each other.
Now.
I start running like hell. Not towards the staircase—towards the exit.
Suited men protect me as I run. I don’t know their names, have never seen them in my life, but they don’t hesitate. The second I’m in danger, they throw themselves in the line of fire or shoot my assailants from afar. Maksim’s sniper dot is jumping ahead of me, too, paving the way for my escape.
Is this what it means to be Bratva?I dodge bodies, force myself to look away from the carnage happening all around me.Being brothers-in-arms, protecting each other no matter what?
I didn’t get it. I thought I could never get it.
But now, I do.
Yulian’s Bratva is about more than just money and influence. More than just violence.
It’s family.
Which makes it my family, too.
My heart is swelling with too many emotions. Shock, betrayal, hurt—but also gratitude. For five years, I’ve been alone in the world. With the exception of Kallie and Reese, I could count on no one.
Now, I’ve got the biggest family I could ask for.
My hand flies to my belly. I can see the exit in the distance.Just a little longer,I promise my baby girl.Just a little?—
Then I hear it.
“Mommy!”
No. It can’t be.
How could he be here?
But one look is enough to confirm my worst nightmares.
I see Brad blocking the exit. And then, in his arms, I see…
“Not so fast, sweet thing.” Brad’s gun presses on Eli’s blond curls. “We’re not done talking yet.”
62
YULIAN
When Mia runs, I don’t look back.
I want to. God knows, I want to be the one to get her out.
But the biggest threat to her survival is Desya, and he’s right fucking here.
So I keep my focus on him.
“Feels good, doesn’t he?” he shouts, taking a shot at me from his hiding spot. The bullet whistles past my ear and embeds itself in the concrete pillar I’m using for cover. “Almost like old times.”
