Page 67 of Innocently Imprisoned By the Bratva

We move from one makeshift shield to another, narrowly avoiding stray bullets. As we reach a door that looks slightly ajar, I hear the sound of heavy boots approaching. I creak it open just a little with my shoulder and peer out cautiously, only to be met with the barrel of a gun.

"Get up!" the man barks, his eyes scanning both of us. "You're coming with us."

"Who the hell are you?" I demand, pushing away his weapon. "And why should we go anywhere with you?"

"Less talking, more walking," the man growls. His accent, it’s more Russian.

He’s not one of Lenny’s guys. This is not the Italian mafia. They’re in there, fighting it out.

I look around and notice his men. They all wear uniforms like they belong to a group or something. Whoever this third group is, they’ve made our lives a lot harder. Anoushka and I exchange looks, reading each other’s minds. We have no idea who these people are, and how dangerous they could be.

Who the hell is kidnapping us now?

The man grabs Anoushka’s arm and pushes her forward.

“If you hurt her, I swear—" I begin to shout. Someone grabs my arm and pushes me forward, interrupting me along the way. "Save the threats for someone who cares," he says.

Chapter 25 - Lev

Our vehicles drive up to the second location we’ve identified from the list of possibilities our location tracker has hallmarked based on the GPS signals Pippa’s phone has given off.

We enter the abandoned docking station and exit our vehicles, guns drawn. Boris, Damien, and I exchange looks. It smells like we’re heading right into trouble.

We see abandoned cars with doors wide open beside us. From inside, we hear screams.

“Fuck,” Boris says.

We begin to make our way toward the entrance, clearing the area cautiously and moving toward the source of the screams. My heart pounds with worry for Pippa and Anoushka. As we round a corner, we come face to face with a trio of armed men.

I raise my gun, ready to fire, but before I can, Damien takes the lead. “Who are you?” he asks.

“The mafia,” one of them says. “If you’re Lenny’s men, run. Save yourselves. The guy owes us money.”

What idiots, I think to myself. Because of them, we now know who the enemies are.

Boris motions at his men. Our Bratva grab the three fools from their blind spots, kicking their weapons out of their hands, bounding and tying them up. They try to scream, but no one can hear them over the noise.

Boris kicks the warehouse door open and I storm in first, gun raised, Mikhail and our men at my back. There’s chaos around us—yells, gunshots, blood, the stench of fear. My eyes dart frantically through the anarchy, searching for that familiar brunette hair, those gentle brown eyes. Where is she? Where are they keeping my Pippa? I look for those blue-green eyes that are so typical for the Zolotovs. Where is my sister?

A bullet whizzes past my ear and I duck behind a crate, heart pounding. Focus, Lev. You can't help them if you're dead. I peek around the edge, squeezing off a few shots at the nearest goons. They dive for cover. Amateurs.

"Hey, Bro, heads up," Boris shouts as he lobs a grenade over my hiding spot. It explodes in a burst of heat and noise, taking out a knot of Italian gangsters. Nice.

I sprint through the opening, scanning the room again. A flash of pink in the corner—could it be a woman’s dress? I make a beeline toward it, bullets biting at my heels. Skidding behind another stack of crates, I find nothing. Just a torn, shredded piece of cloth. My heart sinks. No Pippa. No Anoushka.

Dammit. I'm not leaving this hellhole without my girls.

I spring up, sprinting through the warehouse while bullets fly past me. My men are pinned down behind crates and machinery, exchanging fire with the rival gang, giving me shelter. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Lenny making a break for the exit. That slimy rat.

I intercept him halfway, tackling him to the ground. He struggles underneath me.

"Where's my sister? Where’s Anoushka?" I snarl, pressing my gun against his temple.

"I ain't telling you nothing!" he spits back.

I dig the barrel harder into his skin, and he whimpers. "Want to try that again?"

Sweat beads on his forehead. "Basement," he gasps. "Hidden room in the basement. Now let me go!"

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