Page 42 of Till Death Saves Me

"Shit," Anya mutters beside me.

She slams on the brakes, tires squealing. My mind races, searching for another way out.

But there isn't one.

The car doors fly open. Men with guns emerge, their faces twisted in cruel smiles. My fingers find the knife hidden in my waistband. It's not much, but it's something.

"Get out of the car," one of them barks.

Anya's hand closes over mine. "We'll get out of this," she whispers.

I nod, drawing strength from her presence. We step out slowly, hands raised.

The men circle us like sharks. My skin crawls as their eyes rake over us.

"Thought you could get away, huh?" One of them sneers, stepping closer. "Stupid bitches."

Anya's hand darts out, snatching a wrench from the car. She brandishes it like a weapon.

"Stay back," she warns, her voice steady despite the fear I know she must feel.

They laugh, amused by our feeble attempts at defense. I pull out the knife I swiped earlier, holding it in front of me with shaking hands.

"Ooh, the little princess has teeth," another one taunts. He lunges forward, grabbing for my wrist.

I slash wildly, feeling the blade connect. He howls, stumbling back. Blood drips from a shallow cut on his arm.

His eyes narrow dangerously. "You'll pay for that, bitch."

They close in, toying with us. Anya swings the wrench, keeping them at bay for a moment. But we're outnumbered and outgunned.

A fist connects with my stomach. I double over, gasping. The knife clatters to the ground. Anya cries out beside me as they wrench the wrench from her grasp.

Rough hands grab me, hauling me upright. I struggle, kicking and clawing, but it's useless. They're too strong.

As they drag us back towards the warehouse, the fight drains out of me. The brief spark of hope flickers and dies.

We're never making it out of here.

Or I didn't think we were. But then three more black SUVs swing onto the scene, guys flooding out before they even stop, and I recognize them. They are Sokolov Bratva men.

I watch in stunned disbelief as Ivan bursts onto the scene, his eyes blazing with cold fury. He moves like a force of nature, unstoppable and devastating.

The first attacker doesn't even have time to raise his gun before Ivan's fist connects with his jaw. The crack of bone echoes in the air, and the man crumples to the ground. Ivan doesn't pause, pivoting smoothly to face the next threat.

Two men rush him at once. Ivan ducks under a wild swing, driving his elbow into one attacker's solar plexus. As the man gasps for air, Ivan grabs him by the shirt and hurls him into his companion. They go down in a tangle of limbs.

A glint of metal catches my eye. One of the fallen men reaches for his gun. My heart leaps into my throat, but before I can shout a warning, Ivan's foot comes down hard on the man's wrist. The sickening crunch makes me wince, but I can't look away.

Ivan snatches up the gun, his movements fluid and precise. Two shots ring out in rapid succession. Two more bodies hit the pavement, red blooming across their chests.

The last man standing raises his hands in surrender, terror etched across his face. Ivan doesn't hesitate. He closes the distance in three long strides, his fist connecting with the man's temple. The attacker drops like a stone.

As the echoes of violence fade, Ivan turns to me. His chest heaves with exertion, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. But his eyes... God, his eyes are alive with a fierce protectiveness that takes my breath away.

Pride swells in my chest. This deadly, ruthless man is my husband. And he came for me.

Ivan strides towards me, stepping over bodies without a second glance. His hand cups my face, surprisingly gentle given the carnage he just unleashed.

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