Page 30 of Forced to Marry the Bratva

“Damien, there’s no way they’d be here.” His voice softens, trying to placate me. “You’re just... hallucinating from the pain and adrenaline. Please, we really need to go.”

“Fine,” I concede, knowing we don’t have the luxury of time and that Lev’s not listening. Perhaps I could find them in the crowd and get to them if Lev won’t help me. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“Good, let’s go,” Lev says, grabbing my arm to steady me. The sirens are closer now, and I can’t help but feel a sudden sense of urgency in the air. Just as we start to move, two familiar figures emerge through the mass of chaos, reaching toward me.

“Anoushka! Genevieve!” I exclaim, relief washing over me. My sister is standing before me, looking fierce and angry, with Genevieve at her side, looking petrified.

“What the hell?” Lev screeches in disbelief, his eyes darting between us.

“Damien! Are you okay?” Anoushka asks, concern etched on her face as she rushes to my side and gently begins to touch my face, my shoulders, and my chest, taking in my bloodied appearance and trying to see if I’m okay.

“See? I wasn’t hallucinating,” I tell Lev smugly, even though my vision is still swimming.

“Damn it, Anoushka!” Lev hisses through gritted teeth, fury and fear intermingling on his face. “What the hell were you thinking, coming here?”

“And bringing Genevieve with you?” I spit out, equally angry at my sister.

“Damien, we just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she replies defensively, her chin jutting out with that stubborn determination I know all too well. She reaches over and clutches Genevieve’s hand in hers before stepping in front of her, staring at me and silently daring me to yell at my wife.

I shake my head to clear it and take a few deep breaths to assess the situation. Right now isn’t the time to be mad. The sirens are growing louder, and from the shouts I’m hearing, some of the cops are already in the building, and backup is on its way.

“Listen,” I instruct, finally finding the balance I need to stand on my own two feet. Something about seeing Genevieve here, so helpless and scared, makes me forget my own pain. “We need to separate. That way, if one of us is caught, the other can help out without involving the family. Lev,” I look at my brother. “Take Anoushka. Genevieve, stay with me.”

I can see Lev wanting to argue, worried for me. But I see no other choice. What’s the point of the four of us getting caught together? There’s no way I can leave the girls alone, unprotected.

“Lev, take Anoushka and get out of here. Now.” I order, my voice brokering no argument. Lev hesitates for a moment before nodding in agreement. He knows as well as I do that we have no time to waste.

“Come on, Anoushka,” he says, grabbing her hand and starting to lead her away from the chaos.

“Be careful, Damien, Gen,” she calls out, worry evident in her eyes.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I reply grimly, turning my attention back to Genevieve.

“Stay close to me,” I tell her, locking eyes with her as she nods shakily, fear etched onto her delicate features. I feel an unexpected surge of protectiveness, a need to shield her from the danger surrounding us.

Taking a deep breath, I steady myself, forcing down the pain radiating from my injured side. Focus, Damien, focus. I can’t afford any more distractions.

“Ready?” I ask Genevieve, gripping her hand tightly as she nods. Together, we move as one, weaving our way through the frenzied crowd and dodging flailing limbs as we navigate toward the exit.

“Where are we going?” Genevieve whispers, her eyes darting from side to side as if searching for potential threats.

“Out to my car and back home,” I assure her, my mind racing through possible escape routes. I feel the full weight of my responsibility for Genevieve’s safety, an unfamiliar sensation that unnerves me.

The wail of fresh sirens cuts through the air, injecting urgency into my already racing heart. We’re swamped by cops. One wrong turn, and we could end up in the slammer. I tighten my grip on Genevieve’s hand, determined to get us out of this chaos before we run into the cops.

“Stay close,” I command. “And tell me if you see cops.”

We push through the crowd, bodies jostling against us as we weave our way toward the exit.

“Damien, they’re getting closer!” Genevieve warns, her breath rapid as she glances behind us. I turn and see those dreadful uniforms.

“Left, now!” I bark, pulling her with me as we take a sharp turn down a narrow corridor. The way we rush makes me sick and dizzy. I stand against the wall, trying to catch my breath. There are no lights here, no people. It’s cramped, and Genevieve’s chest is pressed against my own.

“Are you okay?” I ask breathlessly.

“I’m fine,” she replies, her tone defiant despite her labored breathing. She reaches over and accidentally touches my waist.

“Fuck,” I groan without thinking. She touches a deep cut, and I feel the wave of nausea hurl over me.

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