BANG.
The gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space.
Alexei jerks and cries out as his grip on my throat loosens. He looks down at the blood blooming across his side—dark red spreading across his white shirt.
He looks up.
And there’s Vera standing in the doorway, holding a gun incorrectly again (I really need to fix that). Her face is pale but her eyes are blazing with fury.
“Get away from my husband,” she snarls.
Alexei stumbles off me, clutching his side. I scramble up, gasping for air, before putting myself between them.
“Sweetheart,” Alexei says, and his voice cracks and I fight the urge to knock him out for daring to use a pet name on my wife. The bastard is almost pleading. “Vera, please. I’m the baby’s father. That’s my child. You can’t?—”
“No.” Vera growls, the gun still pointed in his face. “You’re the sperm donor. Dimitri is this baby’s father. He’s already more of a father than you’ll ever be.”
Alexei’s face transforms from a pleading ‘victim’ into pure rage. “You fucking bitch.”
He raises his gun at her.
I lunge forward, grabbing his arm, and slamming it against the concrete wall with all my strength until his fingers spasm and the weapon clatters to the floor.
It only took two times. Fucking whimp.
Then we’re grappling again but I’m only reacting now. He threatened Vera. He fucking pointed agunat MY wife. At the mother of MY child.
Red consumes my vision.
I get him in a proper chokehold this time, arm locked under his chin, cutting off blood flow to the brain. He fights desperately, clawing at my arms, trying to break free.
“It’s over,” I say quietly in his ear. “It’sover, Alexei.”
He makes a choking sound. His struggles weaken before they slow and stop.
I hold him for another ten seconds after he goes limp, making sure he’s truly unconscious. Then I lower him to the ground and pull zip-ties from my pocket and secure his hands behind his back.
He’s alive but unconscious and I grunt with satisfaction.
This doesn’t end here in a basement. This ends publicly with both families watching. I turn to Vera. She’s still holding the gun, and she’s shaking so hard I can see it from here.
“Hey.” I cross to her and gently take the weapon. Her hands are ice cold. “Hey, it’s okay.You’reokay.”
“I shot him,” she whispers as if she can’t believe it. Her lips are bloodless. “I actually shot him.”
“You saved my life,” I tell her roughly, taking her hands in mine and blowing on them, trying to bring some warmth into them.
“I was aiming for his chest, but I hit his side instead,” she continues, her eyebrows knitting in frustration. “My aim really is terrible.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “You hit exactly what you needed to hit this time, but yeah, your aim is shit, Vera.”
She looks up at me, and her eyes are bright with tears she won’t let fall. “I-is it over?”
“Almost, love.” I pull her against me with my good arm and press a kiss to her head. “Come on.”
I grab Alexei’s unconscious body by the collar and drag him toward the stairs. Vera follows close behind, and I can hear the battle above us winding down.
When we emerge into the parking lot the scene is chaos. There are bodies everywhere and I see some are Konstantin’s men, and some ours. The clinic is destroyed—windows shattered, walls pockmarked with bullet holes, and blood on the asphalt.
