Chapter 152 152

Chapter 152 152
“Now, you’re going to come with me.” He pulls out his gun, aims it right at my head. “You’re going to join me in hell, and you’ll never fucking leave again.”

“You think you can fix one sin with another?” I level my gaze. Even though I’m staring down the barrel of a gun, I’ve never felt calmer. “You think you’ll feel better with me dead? You won’t. You’ll still be miserable. You’ll still be alone.”

“No.” He shakes his head. A sick grin splits his face in half. “No, you’ll be there with me. But before I join you, I’ll pay a visit to your whore. Make sure every last Lozhkin is wiped from this earth, your little bastard included.”

“Like fuck you will.” All the anger I’d lost comes back with a vengeance. “You gave me your word.”

“Maybe you didn’t get the memo.” He cocks his gun. “Dead men can’t testify. And they sure as shit don’t keep their promises.”

I have no time to think. I lunge for the weapon. If I have to die, so be it—but not Mia. She’s blameless. Our child is blameless. There’s no point in my death if it can’t save them.

Desya kicks me back to the ground. He’d never get away with such a cheap tactic any other day, but my shoulder’s still bleeding freely, pounding with pain. When he grinds his foot on the wound, I can’t help the roar that comes out of me.

He touches the gun to my forehead. “See you in hell, brother.”

“Not if I see you first,” a feminine voice cuts in.

We both turn.

No.

It can’t be.

What’s she doing here?

“Mia.”

My voice is a whisper. Mia’s gaze flits to me, full of concern, but she doesn’t dare look away from Desya. She’s too smart for that.

Instead, she cocks the gun Desya stole from me. “Get away from my fiancé,” she orders.

“Your fiancé?” Desya lets out a cruel laugh. “Damn. I guess congratulations are in order. Sorry I didn’t bring a gift.”

“The gun in your hand will do.”

“Mia,” I grit, “leave. I can’t protect you if⁠—”

“You don’t need to.” Her jaw sets. “I’m protecting you.”

“Aww. Isn’t that adorable?” Desya digs the mouth of his gun harder into my forehead. I’ve never wanted to kill someone with my bare hands more, but right now, I can’t afford to act recklessly. Not when Desya can easily punish Mia for it. “But I’m afraid this is a private party. See, you’re not welcome here.”

“Then you shouldn’t have invited me.”

“Me? Invited you?” He barks another laugh. “No way. I wasn’t planning on sharing.”

Invited? I can’t follow the conversation. I feel like I’m missing a crucial piece.

Surprise flits across Mia’s face, too, but only briefly. Soon, she’s looking murderous again. “Final warning,” she says. “Let him go, or I shoot.”

“What, with that soggy old thing?”

“I’ll take my chances.”

But I don’t. Her hands are shaking hard, she’s got no training whatsoever, and that gun, while theoretically waterproof, just took a dive in the Hudson.

I’m not risking it. I’m not risking her.

So I take a chance.

It takes everything to summon my last ounce of strength. But once I do⁠—

Once I do, I stop feeling pain.

I grab Desya’s ankle and twist hard. His body tilts, off-balance, his foot dislodged from my injured shoulder. He tries to shoot, but the sand eats his bullet.

Then another gunshot echoes. And another. And another.

Mia’s face is a mask of panic as she pulls the trigger. She’s a nurse—she’s never had to hurt someone. Never broke her oath before.

But now, for me, she shatters it.

Desya’s body sways. He looks down at his chest, filled with bullet holes, with a horrified sort of disbelief.

Then he falls off the pier.

I watch the dark waters churn around his body. Bubbles come up to the surface in a heated froth until it all turns still. As calm as the grave.

He’s dead. He’s really dead.

“Yulian!” Mia drops the gun and rushes to me. “Are you okay?! Where are you hurt?!”

I want to answer. Want to raise my hands to her shaking shoulders, cup her face and kiss her. But then the world starts tipping over.

“Yulian.” Mia’s voice turns panicked, desperate. “Yulian!”

I’ve lost too much blood. The realization comes slowly. Is this it, then? Am I done for?

But then another thought comes. A brighter, happier thought.

I saved her.

I saved them.

My family.

This time, I didn’t let them die.

52

MIA

FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLIER

By the time I make it to the yacht, everything’s on fire.

It’s like watching those final minutes in Titanic. Bodies hitting the water, screams echoing all the way to the beach. The boat is sinking, swallowed up by the black waves below. I’ve never felt so helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

Yulian’s on there. It’s all I can think. He’s on that boat.

I can hear sirens in the distance, police and ambulances, but they sound so far away. They’ll never make it in time. I know how these things work—first aid can be very quick or very slow, depending on the hour, traffic, how soon the call came in.

Tonight, the streets are busier than usual. But even if that wasn’t the case… if help was minutes, seconds away…

That boat is still sinking. It’s sinking fast—too fast.

Which means they’ll be too late.

Panic rises within me. I rush along the beach, looking for a boat I can use. Anything, really, to get closer. I can’t leave him. I won’t leave him. I still need to tell him…

Then I see him.

Yulian, gasping on the pier.

For a moment, all I can feel is relief. Sweet, boundless relief. If Yulian’s here, then he’s not on the boat. He isn’t burning, isn’t drowning. He’s safe.

Except that he’s not.

My vision adjusts to the dark. The full picture comes to me, in horrifying bits and pieces.

Desya’s face. Desya’s crazed, mad sneer. His foot on Yulian’s shoulder, pinning him to the ground. He’s crushing Yulian’s arm, and Yulian…

He isn’t fighting back.

But that makes no sense. Yulian always fights back. He always has to have the last word, throw the last punch. So, if he’s not doing that now…

It means he can’t.

He’s hurt. He must be.

Has he been shot? I try to look, but it’s too dark, too far. Is his arm broken? Is that why⁠—?

I walk closer to the pier, and that’s when I see the gun in Desya’s hand.

My breath stops. I stare at the weapon with horror. A black, shiny thing, its mouth digging into Yulian’s forehead.

I need to help him. Fear crests through me, cold and clawing. I need to⁠—

Then my foot hits something on the ground.

Another gun.

Yulian’s gun.

I pick it up before I can think. I’ve never shot anyone before. Never thought I’d have to. Or, God forbid, want to.

But right now, I have no idea what I want. No clue of what I’m truly capable of. When I threatened Brad this morning, it was all posturing. Regardless of the outcome, I never would have pulled the trigger on his execution.

But now, I feel the difference in my fingertips. In my gut. I know, as I tighten my grip on cold steel, that this is far, far from posturing.

No matter what oaths I swore…

… I’ll kill to save my family.

“Get away from my fiancé.”

For a second, I forget that’s not what we are. Not anymore. Because I broke it off. Because I was too wounded to forgive him.

But at that moment, I know: I could never live without him.

Yulian, who’s as stubborn as he is kind. Yulian, who never wants anyone to see his soft side. Yulian, who plays up the worst in him so you’d never guess there was a better part, a brighter part, hidden under the surface.

Yulian, who saved me when he didn’t even know me. Who kept saving me over and over, against every logic, every interest. I was bad for business, bad for his reputation as pakhan, and he still chose me. Every freaking time, he chose me.

Now, it’s my turn to choose him.

So I give the warning. I give another.

Desya laughs. Like he doesn’t think I’ll do it. Like he doesn’t think I can.

I don’t think I can, either.