Page 53 of The Bratva's Innocent Bride

“Fine, you know what?” he says, stepping closer to me and putting his hands on my desk. His eyes dart around my face, that trademark grimace on his face. “I think you—”

“Get your hands off my desk,” I growl, stepping forward. Just because everyone else bows to him doesn’t mean I will. “Being reckless isn’t the same as being bold, Viktor.”

“I’m here because I don’t fucking trust you, Fiona.” Viktor growls. “You may have everyone else fooled, but I just don’t buy into this whole act. That you’re some random chick who happens to know jujitsu. So, yeah, I’m coming around. Just to check up on things.”

“Your brother is in love with me, Viktor,” I sneer. “So, you’d better learn to trust me.”

“Oh, is he?” Viktor asks, tilting his head. “He told you that?”

We stand in my office, breathing heavily for a long moment. Viktor’s eyes are hard and cold, and I’m reminded of my father for the briefest moment. I wonder if there’s anything I can do to gain his trust or if I’ll always be an outsider to him.

“Get out.”

“I—”

I grab the gun from under my desk, pointing it at him and cocking the hammer.

“Get the fuck out of my office, Viktor, I swear to god.”

Something flickers over his face for the briefest of moments, then disappears. He turns around and walks out the door, hitting his shoulder against another airfield worker. When the worker sees me lowering my gun and flicking on the safety, she turns around, apparently deciding that later might be a better time.

I take a moment to breathe. I sit in my office for at least an hour, trying to calm down. Then, I text Boris to let him know I’m heading home early. My heart feels tight; the whole world doesn’t feel right now.

And it’s because Viktor is right. Boris still hasn’t told me he loves me.

He’s shown it in a hundred different ways, but I say it every night without ever getting it back. It shouldn’t matter. But it does.

I pack up my things and step out of the office, but when I turn to lock it up, I see past the box and through the scaffolding to the other side of the hanger, where someone is crouching along the wall.

It’s not anyone I recognize. Staying as quiet as I can, I creep along the wall, balancing on the edge as I move forward to get a better look at them.

Then, I see the blinking light on the device they’ve just placed along the wall.

I drop my backpack and swing over the rail, hanging and dropping a few feet to get closer to them, but when they hear me land, they turn on their heel, running as fast as they can out of the hangar.

There’s a decision to make: chase after them and figure out who it is, or clear out the hanger so nobody gets hurt.

I run to the intercom on the wall and slam my hand onto the red button, picking up the phone and trying to keep my voice from shaking.

“Code black,” I say, trying not to think about the fact that the blinking device is just feet from me and could blow up any second. I need to get my people out of here. “We have a code black. I repeat: code black.”

When I don’t see enough movement, I shout into the speaker, “Get the fuck out, everybody.”

That sparks some movement, and engineers and pilots start to follow the evacuation guide, hurrying out the doors and leaving the property altogether. We have many codes, including those for bombs, chemical warfare, and a visit from the police. If the hanger survives the bomb, I’ll have to re-visit how important it is for everyone to know the codes and react to them as soon as they’re called.

People are rushing out, and I spot Viktor on the other side of the building, trying to ask someone what’s going on. I start to make my way over there to tell him to get out and not to delay anyone else from getting out when a hand snaps over my mouth.

I taste the chloroform and try not to breathe, trying to fight them, but they punch me in the side, and when I gasp in pain, I get a mouthful of the stuff, and the world goes black.

Chapter 23 - Boris

“What the fuck happened here?” I asked, slamming the door to my SUV and walking toward the hanger. All around me, workers and our family paramedics are standing in the gravel. Some are openly gaping at the damage. A few look shell-shocked. Some are on the phone.

When I first received the emergency notification, I was terrified, thinking Fiona might have been harmed. But, out of some weird luck, she texted me that she was leaving just before it happened.

The southern wall has been damaged, as far as I can see, but it doesn’t look like there’s further damage. Through the open door, I can see several planes, which also look to be completely intact. If this was an attack, it doesn’t look like it was very successful.

We’ve had attacks on our operations before, but they usually result in more damage or stolen goods. When I see the bags of beans stacked high inside, I press my lips together, trying to figure this out.

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