Page 191 of Brutal Savage

The fucker has a death wish.

Or he thinks he’s invincible.

I’d guess it’s the latter.

How did these fucks get through the fence? They must’ve killed our men at the gate. That’s the only explanation.

“Fuuuck!” Worry instantly gnaws at me.

What if there are men coming for Elara? What if they’re already at the house?

I need to get the fuck out of here just to make sure she’s okay.

“Get down, Konstantin!” I shout, killing a man who was about to put a hole through the back of his head.

As soon as the guy goes down, he stalks toward him, eyes widening.

“Suka!” He shoots off into the dead body, over and over, his face turning crimson with his fury.

Three men remain.

There are too many of us. They have to know they won’t win. But they refuse to back down, firing off more bullets in our direction while we all hit them back.

The engine of the truck suddenly comes to life, and before any of us realize what the hell is going on, it starts gunning down the road.

“I’m going after him!” Fionn rushes for his car, but before he can get in, one of the assholes fires into his windshield, shards of glass splintering through the air.

“Okay, you fuck with my Royce? Now I’m pissed.” He shoots two into the guy’s head, and he goes down with a thud.

Konstantin raises his rifle in the air and empties three bullets into the truck, taking out two of the tires.

With a snarl, he charges toward the driver’s side, harshly pulling the door and dragging the man out until he hits the concrete with a loud thump.

He kneels, ripping off the man’s ski mask, while gunfire still rings in the air. “Who sent you?” He straightens. “Tell me now and I won’t come after your mama.”

The man raises both palms in the air. “Please, man, don’t kill me.”

I can’t see the asshole’s face, too busy trying to take out the last two men. I get one in the chest, and soon there’s only one left.

He starts to retreat, throwing his weapon down and raising his palms in the air.

Kirill takes him out without hesitation.

Now there’s no one left except the kid on the ground who’s no more than twenty, maybe even younger. Terror fills his eyes as he stares at each of us.

Pressing the heel of my shoe into his throat, I repeat the same question Konstantin asked. “Tell us who sent you.”

“I—I…”

“Are you stupid?” Kirill asks. “Or you want to get your whole family killed? Because I promise on my mama’s grave, we’ll find your family and cut each one of their throats.”

“Nozh.” Konstantin reaches a hand toward Kirill.

Before I can wonder what the hell he said, Kirill is removing a knife from the holster around his waist and handing it to him.

“Oh, God…” the kid cries. “Please don’t do that, man! I’ll talk! I’ll talk! I swear.”

“What a good boy.” Konstantin pats his cheek, but it’s more like a slap. “So, who was it?”

---