Page 169 of Bratva Butcher

Bang!

The bullet tore through the man’s head, right between his eyes. He thumped to the ground. A rain of bullets came out of nowhere, and I dropped, a hiss falling from my lips. A small trickle of pain pulsed from my arm.

Just a graze, I breathed out in relief.

I army-crawled into the laundry room located beside the kitchen and slammed the door shut. Somewhere along the way, I’d dropped my gun, and I wanted to kick myself. Bullets ripped through the door, wood raining down on me. When they suddenly stopped, I knew it was because they needed to reload, and that it would be my only chance to get back on the offensive.

Jumping to my feet, I ran out to see a man in tactical gear reloading the gun in his hands. A silencer was screwed onto the barrel. We locked eyes. He slammed the magazine into the gun. I threw my knife. He dove to the right, and I rushed forward, slamming my knee into his chest in a flying knee strike. He went flying back but recovered fast, rolling into a reverse somersault and springing back up to his feet.

We locked into a battle of blows, throwing punches and kicks at each other trying to gain the upperhand. He wasverygood. His services most likely cost a small fortune. Had it been six months before, he might have beaten me, he wasthatgood. But I had something other than myself to fight for.

The man I loved.

And there was no way in hell I was going to let anything happen to Dimitri.

With love and determination pumping in my veins, I attacked him with everything I had.

He threw a punch. I ducked, wrapped my arms around his and twisted sharply. Something snapped. He roared in pain. I flicked my leg behind me and up, leaning forward so my foot would smash into his face. He stumbled backwards, a curse flying from his mouth.

Spinning on my heels, I hit him with a brutal, roundhouse kick right to the chest. He flew back, landing harshly onto my glass coffee table, shattering it. He groaned and went to get back up, then just collapsed, passing out.

Banging from upstairs made my eyes whip to the ceiling.

No. There were more of them, and I left Dimitri sleeping.

Leaving the unconscious man exactly where he was, I sprinted out of the room, up the stairs and barged into my bedroom.

Dimitri stood there, covered in blood, face a mask of pure rage. Three dead bodies lay on the floor around him, pools of blood seeping into my beautiful white carpet. A fourth assassin was on their knees in front of him, not moving a muscle thanks to the blade pressed firmly to their neck.

Dimitri’s eyes snapped to me, and a tidal wave of relief seemed to wash over him right before me. “Are you okay?” His voice was like granite, hard and raspy.

“Fine,” I panted. “You?”

“Pissed off,” he snarled. “Why weren’t you in bed?”

“I heard a noise downstairs, so I went to check it out.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Fuck my tone, Autumn!” he growled. “A group of assassins just broke into our house and tried to kill us.”

“Awww,” I gushed, stepping forward. “You called it ’our house’. You’re so cute.”

He glared daggers at me. I just continued to smile as I walked and stopped directly in front of him. I gave him a chaste kiss on the lips and he grumbled, his body relaxing slightly.

“This is such a sweet moment, I’d hate to interrupt it. Why don’t I just go?”

My whole body stiffened at the sound of the assassin’s voice.

“Shut up,” Dimitri snapped. I saw the exact moment he decided to go for the kill shot, his arm swinging back to plunge the knife into the assassin’s neck.

“Wait!” I rushed out.

Slight frown on his brows, Dimitri did as I asked.

The assassin was wearing the same tactical gear as the others, as well as a ski mask over their face. I pulled it off.

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