This time, he charged faster. Before he could reach it, I kicked outward.Damn. Almost connected with his face. He lunged toward me instead. Tight hooks to the body, a brutal elbow strike caught my temple and sent stars flashing across my vision.
I stumbled back.
The man struck like a coiled serpent—fast. Precise. I threw a punch. The ghost slipped it, ducked, and spun inside my reach. Never allowing me to catch a breath. I took the hits, blocked what I could. The blade slashed my hip.
I roared. Pain sharpened my focus. Pivoting, I slammed my forearm into the man’s throat, elbowing his jaw. The soldier reeled.
I tackled him, driving him through the side garden and into a wooden planter box. Dirt exploded around us. We rolled, kicking and slamming into stone pavers. The attacker raked his knife across my shoulder. I elbowed him in the ribs, reached for his wrist, and wrenched it back. The knife clattered to the gravel.
I dove for it.
Too slow.
The masked man kicked it away and yanked me by the collar, wrapping one arm around my neck in a chokehold. I clawed at the arm, vision dimming.He’s gonna end you, Lach! Buck up!
Natasha’s face swam in my mind. The Bratva Tsar just called … a warning. And he’d sent a ghost to kill me.
21
LORENZO
Lachlan drovehis heel into my shin, again and again. Desperate. Furious. Animalistic. I grunted but didn’t release. He was good. Trained, even. But not like me. Not shaped by war. Didn’t get badass in black ops and Marine Raider survival.
Still … I had to give it to him.
The guy didn’t want to die.
And a part of me—some annoying sliver that would’ve died protecting Jamie—didn’t want his brother to die either.
For Jamie’s sake.
For the years he watched my six in places uncharted on any map.
But Lachlan was making it real hard.
With a backward snap of his skull, he cracked my nose. Sharp, loud. White-hot pain exploded across my face. I exhaled, loosened my grip.
We broke apart, both panting.
Lachlan rolled his shoulder. I’d seen how that petty thug I’d paid off earlier had attacked that exact spot minutes ago. Dislocated?Maybe. Weak?For sure.
I zeroed in on that shoulder. One clean break and the advantage would be mine again.
“Who sent you?” Lachlan growled low, voice a rasp from the chokehold.
Confusion swam behind his fury. Behind those eyes, so much like my brother-in-arms. My brother … Jamie. I froze.
Lachlan’s snarl came out explosive, breathy. “Who. Sent.Ye?”
There it was. The full Scott. Like Jamie when pissed. The same snarled vowels and weighted threats. I almost smiled. I stared at him, said nothing.Okay, you are practically blood of my blood.Jamie and I’d swapped blood. We were closer than any throwaway foster siblings I once knew.
I saluted. A casual, mocking flick of two fingers at my brow. The same way I had the day Jamie got his Silver Star, but it meant something back then. Tonight, it was a middle finger dressed in tradition.
Then I moved.
I burst forward, boots silent on gravel. Vaulted onto the trash bin, shoved off the wood-slatted wall with my gloved hand, and cleared the six-foot fence with ease. Gravel crunched beneath me on the other side.
I didn’t run.
