Page 56 of Ruby Menace

“Where was I?” Petrov begins as he starts moving toward us, gun still raised. “Oh that’s right, I was talking about gutting your whore.”

It’s the second time he doesn’t get to finish telling us his plans about gutting me. There’s a flicker in the corner of my eye, and suddenly something metallic flies across my field of vision. The next thing I see is Kirill’s feet springing to action, catching the piece of metal mid-air.

Then a shot rings out.

And then another.

Zoya jerks and screams, her grip on me loosening. I wrench myself free of her, preparing to rush toward Kirill who’s dropped to the floor. Red blooms on the front of his shirt, his hand clasped to the center of his chest.

“Kirill!” His eyes meet mine for a second, and agony rips through my heart at the sight of his blood pooling on the floor beneath him. The shock of it leaves me breathless with terror.

No!

“Pizda!” Zoya screams. There’s a growing red stain on her upper arm from the bullet that torn through her flesh. She’s wounded but still standing. It doesn’t seem to faze her. Spinning around, she snatches a handgun away from one of the men standing beside her. Before I know what she’s about to do, she’s advancing on Kirill, gun raised, her finger on the trigger.

“No!” I don’t realize that the sound is coming from me until I find myself crashing into her. The knife she’d been holding against my belly is clutched in my hand, and for the life of me, I don’t know how it got there. Except now, I’m slashing it across Zoya’s shoulder blades, blood spurting through the silk of her pale blue blouse.

She spins around, eyes wide with astonishment as I pull my arm back and hit her square in the mouth with my clenched fist.

I’ve seen Kirill take out dozens of guys by now, but I have no idea how much it hurts to hit someone with all of my strength. Thank God it hurts Zoya even more because she staggers back, dropping the gun as she clamps a hand to her mouth. When she takes it away, she’s snarling through blood, and I see that I’ve cracked one of her perfect white teeth. I don’t take time to revel in it. I’m feeling rage like I’ve never felt. Charging forward, I crash into her with my full weight, although this time, she’s ready for me.

The anger that consumes me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Kirill is bleeding out on the floor, and this bitch, is responsible for it all. Heat surges through my veins as we crash into the bookshelf, sending files and ledgers flying everywhere. I’m vaguely aware of the erupting chaos and gunfire around us, but my world narrows down to her cold, hateful eyes. I want to make her feel a fraction of the pain she’s caused us both.

We grapple on the floor, our nails tearing at each other’s faces as we fight for dominance. My nails catch her cheek, and she hisses in pain, but it only fuels her fury further. She headbutts me in retaliation, and stars explode behind my eyelids. The coppery tang of blood fills my mouth as my lip splits open, but I don’t care. All I can think about is ending her once and for all.

That is until a voice stops me. “Enough!” Petrov roars.

Yet again, I’m staring down a gun barrel, and yet again, there’s a deafening explosion. Except now, when I look up, Petrov is staring forward, his expression startled. There’s a neat dark hole in the center of his forehead. And then he topples forward face first to the floor.

“Vlad!” Zoya screams, her voice filled with anguish.

Everything becomes a blur as the room turns into absolute chaos for the umpteenth time. There’s shouting, Dima again, I think, but I can’t pay attention now because Zoya delivers a blow to the side of my head, nearly knocking my lights out.

“You will pay for that, you whore,” she’s screaming at me, with madness in her eyes.

But I’m past being scared. Being in constantly in danger must have desensitized me in more ways than one. I’m still being driven by cold rage as I manage to get on top of her, just as she reaches for the fallen knife beside us. Her fingers close around the hilt just as mine do too, and we end up engaging in a vicious tug-of-war for control over the blade.

I know my life is on the line here and that somehow gives me even more strength. I am fighting for all of us; myself, Kirill, and our two precious babies.

Oh my God, Kirill!

I know I can’t let her win… not after everything she’s done to us.

With a primal scream, I twist my wrist violently and feel a sickening crunch as the knife slips from her grip and into my hand instead. She stares up at me, and I look back, a part of me hoping to find some sort of redeeming feature. There’s nothing. Clawing at my eyes, she struggles to get the knife away, and then we’re rolling again.

She grabs a fistful of my hair, trying to smash my head into the floor. I drag myself away, but she’s wiry, strong, and she fights dirty. I recoil as she spits into my eyes and then wrestles me onto my back. Now she’s on top of me, and we’re still fighting for the knife.

Panting as she bears her weight down on me, she grasps my wrist, trying to angle the blade back at me. But as she presses it ever closer to my throat, I bridge my hips, unbalancing her as I shove back with my hands.

She topples forward, the blade wedged between us. I’m still clutching it, feeling the butt of the knife pressing against my breastbone with bruising force. I don’t realize the sharp end of it is angled similarly at Zoya until she lets out a sharp gasp. I shove hard; I shove with all my might. Her own weight becomes her enemy as she pitches forward. Her eyes widen in shock as the blade thrusts into her chest, and then they glaze over. Her breath wheezes out, and she goes limp on top of me.

She doesn’t move again.

It takes me a moment to gather my surroundings and understand what I had just done. I should be glad, but the horror of my actions immediately start to consume me. Sobbing for air, I shove her off of me as Dima rushes over to help me up.

“You did good, Tiana,” His blunt tones are almost soothing as he brushes my hair from my face, examining it for injuries before leading me away from Zoya’s lifeless body.

“Oh, God,” is all I can pant out. I look around wildly. Petrov’s remaining men are on their knees, their hands laced behind their heads, held at gunpoint by Kirill’s security team.

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