Page 82 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“I decide who lives and who dies tonight. And I’ve had about enough of you.”

He sets his sights on me again.

Time slows down to a halt.

I hold my breath.

I can see his finger squeezing the trigger. I’m frozen, unable to breathe, unable to even think.

My heart stops for what feels like an eternity.

Suddenly, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. Ivan, as big as a mountain, lunges at him. Bowman is too crazed and determined to kill me that he doesn’t see Ivan until it’s too late. Ivan rams into him with the full weight of his massive body. I hear Bowman’s lungs deflate as he’s knocked down and Ivan lands on top of him.

“Fuck.” Artur drops to the floor.

POP. POP. POP.

Gunshots erupt somewhere just beyond the door, getting louder and louder, as Artur struggles, twisting and turning himself until he manages to get his cuffed hands to the front.

Ivan and Bowman are wrestling on the floor. Bowman gets the upper hand and pulls himself to his feet.

He delivers a kick to Ivan’s ribs that steals his breath for a minute before Artur tackles him back to the ground.

Max comes in and kicks Bowman in the face. I hear his jaw crackling from the sheer force of the blow.

Everything happens so fast. They’re all scrambling for control. Bowman is desperate to get to the gun before any of my guys can. Artur almost reaches it, but in the scuffle and confusion, the gun gets kicked closer to me, sliding just outside the bars.

I don’t hesitate.

I rush and drop to my knees, sticking my hand out between the bars to grab it.

Bowman has Max in a headlock. I can see my love’s face draining of color, his eyes losing focus. I point the gun at Bowman. “Stop it!” I scream.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, then lets Max go. “What are you going to do with that? Shoot me?”

“Don’t move!” I reply, both hands shaking as I struggle to keep the gun aimed at him. I’m not sure I’m able to sell this but it’s worth a shot. Anything to buy us some time, just until the real Feds get down here. “Do not fucking move.”

Ivan groans as he tries to sit up.

Bowman chuckles again and pulls another gun, a smaller piece, from an ankle holster.

“Don’t!” I warn him.

But I cannot reason with this man. He’s well past any kind of redemption. He isn’t interested in salvation. He just wants to take as many of us down with him as he can. His all-or-nothing mentality is out of control.

“Bowman, stop!” Max coughs and wheezes, still recovering from that gruesome headlock.

“Don’t do this,” Artur says, the handgun now pointed at him.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” Bowman snarls as he curls his finger over the trigger.

BANG.

I fire the gun.

The bullet pierces Bowman’s torso. Blood seeps through his suit and shirt. Everything turns red as he gives me a stunned, wide-eyed look. His lips part, ever so slowly. “You little bitch,” he whispers.

I watch as he falls to his knees, dropping the gun.

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