Page 12 of Prey of the Bratva

“So that means you are involved,” I said, my blood boiling at the very thought of it. But I couldn’t kill him. Not now. Not until I got what I needed.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking about,” he said, his breathing growing heavier.

“I understand exactly what I’m asking about.”

“No,” he shook his head slightly. “You don’t. This isn’t something you dig into and walk away from.”

“People said the same thing about every problem that was worth solving,” I replied.

“This isn’t a problem,” he snapped suddenly. “It’s a system.”

“Then I’ll dismantle the system.”

That made him laugh. A short, humorless sound.

“You?” he said, disbelief bleeding into his tone. “You think you can—”

“Yes. That symbol,” I continued, pressing forward while I had the momentum. “It ties shipments together to offshore accounts and clearance overrides. Who’s running it all?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lie.”

His eyes flicked to the shadows again, and it was too obvious this time. My muscles tensed in anticipation as the sound of a door slamming echoed through the warehouse behind me. I didn’t turn immediately because I didn’t need to. I had already counted the seconds and mapped the space. A part of me had been waiting for exactly this outcome. I exhaled slowly, my fingers tightening just slightly inside my pockets.

“You should have just sold me the information,” I said.

“You should’ve stayed out of it,” he replied.

I smiled faintly.

“I don’t do that.”

And then I moved. The first man hadn’t even fully raised his gun before I closed the distance. My hand shot out, knocking the weapon aside as I drove my elbow straight into his throat. The impact was solid and brutal, and I felt cartilage give beneath the force. He dropped instantly, choking, but I didn’t pause.

I couldn’t. Not with the warehouse quickly filling up with men.

I pivoted, grabbing his wrist as the second man fired. The shot went wide, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. I twisted hard, using his momentum against him and forcing the barrel away from me as I drove my knee into his ribs. He gruntedand stumbled as another shot was fired directly at me. This one grazed my upper arm, heat tearing through fabric and skin. Pain flared sharp and immediate, but I ignored it.

I moved again, faster now.

The third man came from the side. I barely saw him before his fist connected with my shoulder, sending me off balance. I staggered back a step but recovered, grabbing a metal hook from a nearby crate without thinking. He lunged, and I swung. The hook connected with his jaw with a sickening crack. Bone shifted under the impact, and he dropped hard.

But there were too many. A gunshot rang out again, and this time it hit. The bullet tore into my side, not deep enough to lodge but enough to burn like fire ripping through muscle. My breath caught, my body reacting before my mind could suppress it. I needed to focus and continue standing. I forced myself upright, ignoring the warmth spreading beneath my jacket as another man closed in.

I struck first. The hook came down again, connecting with his shoulder, then his face. He stumbled back, blood spraying across the concrete, and I moved to follow, but pain exploded through my leg.

A kick. Hard and precise.

Something twisted wrong in my foot, and a sharp, sickening snap shot up my spine. My balance broke at once, and I hit the ground on one knee, breath tearing from my lungs. For a split second, everything tilted, and that was all it took. A hand grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. Cold metal pressed against my temple. A gun. I stilled. Not out of fear but out of calculation.

“You should’ve stayed home,” the man muttered, his breath foul against my skin.

I didn’t respond because I was still counting the distances, angles, and the time it would take me to dash and run. I just needed an opening. But there wasn’t one. I knew I would not be able to run fast enough with my leg compromised, and he would pull the trigger. I inhaled slowly.