Page 39 of The Devils' Darling

“I'm sorry, Duchess,” I say.

I realize in this moment it seems hopeless, and I need her to know how I feel about her before I walk straight into Igor’s weapon. One of us has to break this stalemate.

As if she realizes what I am going to do, her eyes fill with tears. “No,” she whispers.

“I love you,” I mouth.

Mackenzie jerks as if I shot her. She blinks rapidly and sways a little on her feet. The priest has started speaking again, but all I can do is watch in horror as Mackenzie jerks twice more then falls to the floor. Kirill tries to catch her but misses. She hits hard, her head bouncing off the concrete.

She's rigid, and her hands curl into tight claws.

No. Fuck, no.

Her body jerks and her head snaps back as her throat and neck strain.

Kirill drops to his knees beside her.

“What the hell is she doing?” Grigoriy demands as if he can’t fucking see what’s happening. “Make it stop,” he says to Kirill. “Make her fucking stop that.”

“She can’t control it, you fucking asshole,” I seethe, already moving, no longer caring if they shoot me, just needing to be by her.

I fall to the same position as Kirill, only on the opposite side of Kenzie. We share a worried glance, neither of us daring to touch her. We’re not trained for this, and we’re both unsure what to do.

“She's having a seizure,” Dom says. “She could die. Let us help her. She can't marry your son if she's dead, can she?”

“A seizure?” Grigoriy’s face turns down in a disgusted sneer. He doesn't seem concerned at all for her well-being, only dismayed that she's having a seizure in the first place.

Igor takes a couple of steps back, lowering his weapon. “What is wrong with her? Is she sick? Could we catch it?”

Igor is freaking out. He even makes the sign of the cross.

Grigoriy laughs. “She’s not possessed Igor, just weak.”

The fucking bastard. He really is a piece of shit.

Dom rushes toward us, and one of Grigoriy’s men panics. A shot rings out, the loud boom in this small room enough to make my ears ring. His men aren't using silencers the way ours are, and it fucking hurts. I throw my body over Mackenzie’s, as does Kirill, and a split second later Dom joins me, so we’re all shielding her.

The men we’ve left upstairs must take the gunshot as their signal to get involved, as bullets rain down on us from above. They’re shooting down the stairs, which means they can’t see what the fuck they’re shooting at properly. My heart pounds and my body tenses, and all I can think is that I don’t want anyone I love to get shot.

“You fuckers,” Grigoriy snarls.

Leon moves fast.

He flies at Grigoriy, smashing into him with his full body weight and taking him down to the ground. Both men grunt as they hit the floor. Leon grabs Grigoriy’s wrist of the hand that’s still holding the gun, lifts it, and drives it back down onto the hard concrete. Grigoriy keeps hold of the weapon, but Leon is on top and has the advantage. Leon repeats the process, and this time something cracks—most likely a couple of Grigoriy’s fingers—and he drops the gun which clatters away. Leon’s gaze flicks to the weapon, clearly trying to decide if it’s worth going for it, but then thinks otherwise. If he lifts the pressure off Grigoriy now, the other man might get the advantage. Grigoriy is physically bigger than Leon, and most likely stronger.

Leon draws back his fist and viciously punches Grigoriy in the side of the head three times. Grigoriy tries to fight back, but he can't get a purchase on Leon, and his head rolls to the side as the final punch stuns him.

Bullets whizz by, the high-pitched sound terrifying when there are people I love in the line of those damn bullets. The gunfight continues, and it’s a deadly stalemate unfolding. Blood blooms on the chest on one of Grigoriy’s men, and he groans as he hits the ground like a sack of bricks. Igor is still returning fire, using the cage as protection—though it’s not much. A yell of pain comes from the top of the stairs, and one of my men falls, slowly at first, and then all at once, toppling to the bottom.

Leon jumps to his feet, snatches Grigoriy’s gun, and points it right at Igor. Igor has been distracted by the gunfire from the staircase and doesn’t see him coming until it’s too late.

Leon jams the muzzle into Igor’s temple. “Drop the weapon, or I’ll shoot.”

Grigoriy’s other remaining man swings his gun in Leon’s direction. I can see what’s about to happen—he’ll shoot Leon first. My gaze locks on the gun that had belonged to the man who’d taken the bullet in the chest, and I launch myself at it. I land on my side, skidding across the floor, white hot pain flashing up through my bad leg, but I get my hands on the gun. Without even thinking, I lift it and squeeze the trigger. The bullet finds its home in the man’s shoulder, and he flies back, hitting the wall and sliding down. He’s still alive, but he’s also dropped his gun. I scramble back to my feet and kick it away.

Igor realizes he’s fucked, and his weapon topples from his fingers. He puts both hands in the air, much like we’d done on our way down here.

“Okay, okay. Don’t shoot.”

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