Page 34 of Twisted Vows

Malachi’s eyes widened as I drew near, his lips parting in a wordless warning, but before he could speak, a figure emerged from the shadows, leveling a gun at his exposed back. Time seemed to slow as I hurled the pipe with every ounce of strength I had left. It sailed through the air, striking the assailant’s wrist with a sickening crack. The gun clattered to the ground as he howled in pain, clutching his shattered limb.

Malachi whirled, his expression a mixture of gratitude and concern as he took in the scene. Without hesitation, he dispatched the disarmed foe before turning to look at me again.

Rurik materialized at my side, his eyes alight with fierce intensity. “We need to move,” he said harshly, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife.

Malachi nodded as he scanned the corridor for threats. “This way.” He gestured for us to follow.

We moved as one through the battlefield. Rurik took point, practically a blur as he cleared the path ahead, while Malachi guarded our rear, his broad shoulders a bulwark against any who dared approach.

Gunfire erupted around us, but we pressed on. I followed their lead, trusting in their skill and experience to guide us through this.

A door loomed ahead, its heavy steel frame offering possible sanctuary. Rurik reached it first, Hand on the doorknob. The door swung open, and we tumbled through, Malachi slamming it shut behind us. For a moment, silence reigned, save for our ragged breaths and the distant echoes of the battle raging beyond these walls.

I leaned against the cool metal, breathing heavily.

Malachi’s broad shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath, his eyes scanning the dimly lit room for any sign of danger. Rurik prowled the perimeter as he checked for potential threats.

The respite was fleeting, however, as the muffled staccato of gunfire echoed through the walls, a grim reminder that the battle raged on beyond our temporary sanctuary.

Malachi looked at me, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. Without a word, he gestured toward the far corner of the room, where a battered table and chairs stood.

We moved in unison, taking cover behind the meager barricade, pressed together. Rurik crouched beside us, coiled like a spring and ready to unleash a torrent of violence at the slightest provocation.

The gunfire grew louder, closer, as if the battle had shifted in our direction. Malachi’s fingers tightened around the grip of his weapon.

Suddenly, a voice crackled over the radio, cutting through the noise outside the room. “Malachi, we have Levon in custody. The remaining forces are subdued.”

A flicker of relief passed over Malachi’s features. He acknowledged the message with brief verbal exchange, but his attention never left the door.

The minutes ticked by, each second stretching into an eternity as we waited, our senses heightened, our muscles taut with anticipation. The distant echoes of battle gradually faded, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to press in upon us from all sides.

At last, the door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped through, his broad shoulders and confident stride instantly recognizable. I didn't know him personally, but I recognized Viktor Yelchin, who was rumored to be the pakhan of the Yelchin bratva. He surveyed the room with a critical eye, his gaze lingering on me for a heartbeat before turning to Malachi.

“It’s done,” he said in a deep baritone that commanded respect. “Bring him in.”

Two of Viktor’s men dragged a figure through the doorway, their grips iron-clad around his bound wrists. Levon Terzian, the man responsible for my torment, for the anguish I had endured at his hands.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in his disheveled appearance, his once-imposing presence diminished, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. He was forced to his knees, his hands bound behind his back and head bowed in defeat.

Viktor stepped aside, his gaze falling upon Rurik. “Ask her.”

He looked at me, a silent question burning within their depths. He must already know Terzien had taken me, but they apparently required confirmation and an accounting of the experience.

I swallowed hard, steadying myself as I prepared to recount the horrors I had endured at Levon’s hands. “He...” My voice faltered, the words catching in my throat like shards of broken glass. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain dispassionate, to detach from the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. “He tortured me,” I continued, my tone flat, devoid of inflection. “Beatings, psychological torment... He used every tactic in the book to try to break me.”

Rurik’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with barely contained fury. Malachi also bristled at my words, his knuckles whitening around the grip of his weapon. Hearing my account was clearly painful for them train

“But I never broke,” I said, voice growing stronger and more defiant. “No matter what he did, I never gave him the satisfaction of breaking me.”

A flicker of pride appeared in Malachi’s eyes. Rurik beamed at me with approval.

Levon lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine with a defiant glare. “You think you’ve won?” He spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the floor, his voice dripping with contempt. “This is just the beginning. You’ll never be safe as long as you’re associated with these animals.”

Before I could react, Malachi was upon him, his fist crashing into Levon’s jaw with a sickening crunch. Levon’s head snapped back, his body crumpling to the floor like a rag doll.

My heart raced with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. I had endured Levon’s torment, his relentless attempts to break me, and emerged victorious. As I watched his prone form sprawled at my feet, a new emotion took root—a burning desire for retribution.

Malachi’s chest heaved with each ragged breath, his eyes blazing. I knew that look, had witnessed it firsthand during our harrowing escape. It was the look of a predator, a hunter who had cornered his prey and was poised to deliver the killing blow.

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