Page 94 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

"Sir, I need you to step away from her and⁠—"

"That's my sister."

The voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and familiar. I turn my head to see Jack Walker pushing through the line of officers, his badge held high. His face is a mask of shock and fury as he takes in the scene. Me, bleeding. Kiera on the ground. The blood on her dress.

"Jack," Kiera breathes.

He rushes over, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands hover over her, checking for injuries, his cop's training warring with his brother's panic. "Are you hurt? Kiera, talk to me. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." She grabs his hands, squeezing them. "I'm okay. It's Emil's blood, not mine."

Jack's eyes snap to me, and the look he gives me could strip paint. "What the hell happened?"

"Someone took a shot at us." I keep my voice level and professional. "My men went after the shooter."

As if on cue, Luca emerges from the alley across the street, breathing hard. He's alone. My jaw tightens. He didn't catch them.

He jogs over, nodding to the officers who try to stop him. "I'm with them," he says, flashing some kind of identification. Probably fake, but convincing enough.

"Did you get him?" I ask in Russian.

"No." Luca's expression is grim. "He had a car waiting. But I found this." He holds up a dark hoodie, dangling it from one finger.

Jack stands, pulling latex gloves from his pocket with practiced efficiency. "Give that to me."

Luca hands it over, and Jack carefully bags it as evidence, his movements precise and methodical. "We'll run it for DNA," he says, more to himself than to us. "Fingerprints, fibers, anything we can get. But it could take weeks to process, maybe longer depending on the backlog."

"Weeks," I repeat flatly.

"Yeah." Jack seals the evidence bag and looks at me. "That's how it works."

Weeks. Kiera could be dead in weeks. Hell, she could be dead tomorrow if this bastard tries again.

More officers are arriving, securing the scene and taking statements from witnesses. The club has emptied out, and now people are crowding the sidewalk, their phones in hand as they record everything they can. This is going to be all over the news by morning.

Jack helps Kiera to her feet, his arm around her shoulders. She's still trembling, her face pale, her eyes too wide. The shock is setting in.

"I need to take your statements," Jack says, looking between us. "Both of you."

"Later." I get to my feet, ignoring the way the movement makes my arm throb. Blood is still seeping through my fingers. "I need to get her somewhere safe."

"You need to get to a hospital," Jack counters. "You're bleeding all over the place."

"I have a doctor."

"Of course you do." Jack's voice is bitter. He turns to Kiera, his expression softening. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nods, but I can see the lie in the tightness around her eyes. She's not okay. She's terrified.

Jack pulls her into a hug, and I see her shoulders shake. She's crying, silent tears that she's trying to hide. Something twists in my chest, sharp and uncomfortable.

When Jack releases her, he turns to me. His expression is hard, his cop's mask firmly in place. "I need to talk to you. Alone."

I glance at Kiera. She's being tended to by one of my men, who's draped his jacket over her shoulders. She's safe for the moment.

"Fine."

Jack leads me a few steps away, out of earshot of the other officers. He crosses his arms over his chest, his jaw tight. "This is what her life is going to be like with you. You understand that, right?"