Page 45 of Arranged Mafia Marriage

Kiril looks at me, confusion etched on his face, but before he can speak, chaos erupts.

Men burst into the room, guns drawn. I recognize some of them as casino staff, the bartender, the croupier from another table, and even the coat check attendant. They’re all pointing weapons at Kiril and his lieutenants, mostly ignoring the rest of thebratvarepresentatives aside from keeping them from drawing guns.

“Nobody move,” shouts a voice, and my blood runs cold as I recognize it from recordings I’ve heard. Damiano.

My half-brother strides into the room, a smug smile on his face. “Isn’t this a lovely gathering? What, no vodka and borscht? How disappointing,” he says in a mocking tone.

Suddenly, I realize I should’ve said something about the waiter. Surely, he was here waiting for this to happen, making sure everyone was too drunk and involved in their gambling to be on guard. I’m the only one who can’t relax, and now I almost feel responsible for this horrible turn of events.

Kiril stands slowly, never looking away from Damiano. “What is the meaning of this?”

Damiano laughs. “Oh, come now, Kiril. You didn’t think I’d let you waltz in and take over my father’s territory without a fight, did you?”

Kiril’s hand inches toward his jacket, where I know he keeps his gun. I catch his gaze, shaking my head slightly. We’re outnumbered.

“You won’t get away with this,” says Kiril, practically snarling.

“I already have. Your security team has been overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep, and once you’re out of the picture, the Russian Bratvawill be in disarray. Ripe for the taking.”

I scan the room, looking for a way out. That’s when I notice Viktor slipping in through a side door, indicating whatever method Damiano used on our other guards, Viktor escaped it. We lock gazes, and I give him an almost imperceptible nod.

“You’re making a mistake, Damiano,” I say, drawing his attention. “This isn’t how alliances are formed.”

Damiano turns to me, looking dismissive. “Ah, my unwanted sister. I’d almost forgotten about you. Don’t worry. I’ll deal with you soon enough.”

As he speaks, Viktor signals to someone outside. Suddenly, the lights go out, plunging the room into darkness. Gunshots ringout, and I drop to the floor, crawling under the table. I feel a hand on my arm and tense, but it’s Kiril.

“Stay down,” he whispers, shielding me with his body.

The room descends into chaos. Shouts, more gunshots, and the sound of breaking glass. I hear Damiano cursing, ordering his men to find us, barking the words out like poison.

More of Kiril’s men have arrived, engaging Damiano’s in a fierce firefight. I stay low, my heart practically in my throat. This is nothing like the movies. It’s loud, confusing, and absolutely terrifying.

A body falls near us, and I stifle a scream. Kiril pulls me closer, keeping his arm around my waist. “We need to move,” he says in my ear. “When I say go, run for the door. Don’t stop, and don’t look back. Understood?”

I nod, then realize he can’t see me in the dark. “Yes,” I whisper.

We wait for what feels like an eternity but is probably only a minute or two. Then, Kiril squeezes my hand. “Go.”

We sprint for the door, ducking and weaving. A bullet whizzes past my ear, and I stumble. Kiril grabs my arm, yanking me forward.

We burst out of the room into the hallway. Viktor is there, covering our escape. “This way,” he says, leading us down a service corridor.

As we run, I hear Damiano’s voice behind us, filled with rage. “Find them. Don’t let them escape.”

But we’re already gone, rushing through the bowels of the casino. Viktor leads us to a loading dock, where a black SUVis waiting. There are two other vehicles behind it, and all the engines are running. Some of the guards look dazed as they pile out to form a circle around us.

“What happened to them?” asks Kiril before I can.

“Complimentary champagne. The fools drank it without questioning its source, assuming it was provided for all the guards by the Bratva families.” Viktor shakes his head in disgust. “I’ll be retraining them myself when we’re back home.”

“Excellent.” Kiril glares at the lot of them, earning sheepish looks, before turning toward me and touching my back to urge me toward the waiting SUV.

We pile in, and Viktor takes off before the doors are even fully closed. I look back to see Damiano and his men emerging from the building, firing at us, but we’re too far away, already disappearing into the night.

I slump against the seat, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Kiril pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me.

“Are you hurt?” His voice is gruff with concern.

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