Chapter 29 Burned
❄︎ Viktor ❄︎
Betrayal, my old friend.
No matter how I tried to prepare for the blow, I never seemed to steel myself on time when it mattered the most.
My arm rose, the heavy metal an extension of me as I aimed at Orlov Conti’s head. Anything to knock his hand off her skin.
The surprised shouts of Primo’s men warbled all around as my men and the Marlow soldatos closed in, shooting them down like sitting ducks.
The heiress watched my movements in shock. Her eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Open lips, flushed cheeks, fists clenched tight. Wearing a red dress so short I could picture what lay just above.
Orlov stood with his face close to hers, leveling me with a smug grin.
“Viktor…” Rosalind started, her voice a soft gasp piercing through the battle waging in the background.
I applied pressure on the stone-cold trigger, but my aim flew wide as weight crashed into my side.
I wasted no time in smashing the butt of my gun into the temple of the man who tackled me. I looked sideways to see that it was Dante, her personal bodyguard. I pushed him off roughly.
Marcus Devries had stormed my home demanding I release Rosalind or risk war. I’d snorted at his request, sneering my accusation at him with a gun pointed at his weathered face. Rosalind had escaped with a band of Mexicans. All this time, she’d been playing me, a viper behind my back.
Imagine my shock when Marcus reinforced what she’d claimed, saying that she was definitely not in league with either the Contis or the Mexicans. He’d looked genuinely worried, insisting that she would never willingly go with either group. Claiming he had investigated and that her time in Boston with Orlov hadn’t been pretty. Orlov had hurt her. Abused her, physically and emotionally.
He’d insisted she was in danger, and when his men had driven off to rescue her, I’d foolishly joined in. Besides, I was headed there anyway.
I just didn’t expect to arrive and find her not only not in danger, but smiling with her supposed abuser, with his hand around her fucking waist.
It was a set-up. And I’d fallen for it like a lovesick teenager. I’d extended her grace not unlike the way I did my father. They both betrayed me.
Taking advantage of my distraction, Orlov dragged her away, both of them running in the direction of Marcus, who stood behind the door of a vehicle, shooting at the Mexicans.
Dante pulled back his fist above me, but before he could land the blow, I caught it and twisted, hard. He grunted in pain and rolled off, aiming a kick at my ribs as soon as he got to his feet.
My eyes never leaving her running figure, I grabbed his foot and dragged him back down.
“You should know better than to stand in my way,” I growled down at him, punching until my wrist slipped off his bloodied face.
Picking up his gun, I got on my feet.
If she thought she was getting away from me without paying dearly, she was sorely mistaken.
I stalked toward their getaway car, aiming for the tires. With loud pops and hiss, my bullets struck the two front tires of the Escalade. The bonnet immediately tipped downward from the leak.
Marcus aimed, murderous intent glazing his eyes.
He pulled the trigger.
I dropped to a running crouch, wanting nothing more than to rip his throat out.
The next shot grazed my ribs, but still I advanced. When he saw I wasn’t going down, he slipped back into the car. The engine revved.
The night exploded in a burst of white and orange behind me. The blast flung me, and I hit the ground rolling, blinding pain searing my back.
I heard the Escalade screech off, sparks flying from the tires with a deafening sound.
“Fuck.” I panted, my back sizzling in its own fat.
Looking behind me, I found the row of buildings in the compound in flames. Someone had set off a bomb.
Adrian appeared over me, his hand outstretched.
“Tell me you got the fucker,” I demanded as I pulled myself up, despite the agonizing pain in my back.
“Of course we did. You’d kill me otherwise,” he said with a grin.
Burning rubble littered the ground as I walked after Adrian to a kneeling Primo with his hands over his head.
He snarled at me, guns pointing at him from every direction. Bodies steamed on the ground from the blast I was sure he’d hoped would kill me.
“Who else is in your merry little gang?” I growled. It took everything in me not to just end him right then.
“You’re looking at the most important one.”
A nod from me and Adrian landed a bone-shattering kick into his ribs.
Primo coughed and sputtered, curling inward from the blow.
“You never used to be a bother. Always stuck to your ends like the good little boy you were. Someone’s backing you. Who?”
“Chinga tu madre,” (fuck your mother), he spat.
“Wrong answer.” I turned around, giving him my back. “Lock him in the cage. Bring in his family. They may be more forthcoming with information.”
“Wait!” he yelled desperately.
I stopped but didn’t turn.
“Leave my family out of this…” he sneered.
“You will give me answers, or die.”
“You’re gonna kill me anyway.”
“Yes.” I clenched my fists, impatient. The throbbing in my back was relentless. “And if you don’t, you’ll die with your entire family. Pick one.”
I walked away.
“You should get that checked out,” Adrian said, falling in step beside me.
“Enza will fix it,” I grumbled, opening my car door.
“I doubt that woman knows anything beyond dousing wounds in alcohol and slapping gauze on.”
“That’s all I need.”
“And the Marlows?”
“Leave them. There’s a story here, and I mean to unravel it thread by fucking thread.”
I sat in my car, hissing from the burn in my back. The smell of burnt fabric and fresh blood meshed together, filling the space.
“She’ll be fiercely protected after this.”
“The more fun it’ll be.” I started up the car. “The warehouse?”
“Surrounded and protected.”
“Good.”
I slammed my foot down, drifting out of the compound and onto the highway, the allure of a challenge buzzing under my skin. She’d made her move.
I ran my tongue over torn, bloody lips.
My skin tingled at the thought of what I would do to her. She’d come the farthest in all the assassination attempts on my life.
And now, I wanted hers.