Page 63 of Forced Bratva Wife

My fingers itched to go for the knife in my sock, my legs begging to run forward and take care of this piece of shit for good. But I clawed it down, held back.

Just then, Parker yanked against her father’s hold, and the contact with the muzzle was broken for a moment. Her eyes widened along with mine as we both realized the momentary angle change may serve her well. I was seconds from barking an order when I watched her slam down on Pavel’s foot with her boot.

He howled, an obvious crunch behind the noise, and pitched forward. Just as he did, Parker snatched his shoulders. She pulled down, clearly using all her strength to yank him toward her knee as it shot up toward his nose. He reeled from the impact, dropping his gun.

The move was actually a classic one, and when Pavel was bewildered enough, Parker fled to the side, putting plenty of space between them.

That was my chance.

I launched myself forward, the stored tension in my thighs springing me forward hard and fast. I covered the ground to Pavel in seconds, smashing my torso into his as I wrapped my arms around his waist and knocked him down to the ground.

“Ahh!”

We crashed down to the cement with a hard thud, and I immediately went for Pavel’s collar. Gripping it tight, I leveled several punches to his nearly broken nose—thank you, Parker—until it finally gave way with a grotesque crack. Blood spilled from his nostrils, and I wasn’t about to let up for anything.

Unfortunately, the asshole’s fight reflexes were stronger than I’d anticipated, and he knocked me back, bucking his hips to toss me to the side.

Pavel quickly rolled, angling his fist toward my head, and I rolled out of the way, only just missing the blow.

“Bastard!” He roared as his knuckles collided with the cement, and from a kneeling position, I socked another punch to his gut.

Pitching sideways, Pavel used the momentum to roll out of the way of another blow. This was getting tiring. I needed to go for the knife and just be done with it.

I reached for my sock, but the metal shape I was looking for wasn’t there.

“Lev!”

Parker shouted from the sidelines, pointing a few feet away from me back toward her father. My switchblade lay on the ground, clearly having fallen from my sock, and Pavel was just a foot or two away from it.

Fuck.

I didn’t have eyes on his gun, so it was a race for who had the best speed. I dove for the blade as Pavel did the same. Our hands tangled together as we struggled for control over the weapon. But a loose piece of cement tripped me up, and my knee slid out from under me.

Pavel snatched his hand backward, taking the knife with him and flicking it open. I tried to pull myself up and away before he got over the top of me, but I had to hand it to the fucker. He was fast.

With a knee to my ribs, Pavel stabbed down. My arms flew up to block the strike, but they caught the brunt of the attack in the process, the knife blade slicing across my left forearm. He shoved down, but it was easy to hold ground against a stable force.

What you needed was to be unpredictable.

In one quick movement, I jolted upward and abruptly straightened my posture. Pavel stumbled backward from the force, giving me enough space to gain my footing again. As we faced each other, both of us ready for a fierce contest, I watched his feet closely and observed the way his body was positioned for any signs of his next move. Suddenly, Pavel tried to attack from the right side.

Moving to the left, I dodged the more serious stab wound, but Pavel raked his arm out to the side, and the tip of the knife slashed across the skin between my neck and shoulder. It did some damage, the warmth of my blood smoothing across me as I continued to backpeddle.

I squeezed my left hand over the injury, distracted enough to miss Pavel going for his gun and closing the distance between us. He was a few feet away when he pulled the trigger.

Pain bloomed through my sternum, and I was flung back by the force, landing on my back.

“Lev!”

The horror in Parker’s voice made my insides burn. I had to just hang on, wait until Pavel came over here to check, and then take that damn switchblade.

He did. The fucked walked over, leveling the gun for a final bullet to the head, but he was also smart enough to step down on the hand that wasn’t gripping my neck. Dammit.

“Buh-bye, Vadim.”

No. This isn’t right, not like this.

“Ahhh!”

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