Page 7 of The Bratva's Knocked-Up Bride

“I wasn’t giving you the choice,” Roman says firmly but playfully, extending a hand to Riley and me. “Come on. I’ll take you ladies there. You’ll love it.”

I don’t hesitate to place my hand in his, and his fingers curl around my hand, practically swallowing it in his large palm. The connection shoots warmth up my arm and dripping down my core, daring to extend lower. I look at Riley, and this time, she’s shooting daggers my way, but I can’t bring myself to reject Roman’s offer.

“We’d love to,” I say, and when I look at Riley this time, it’s almost apologetic. She looks like she wants to roll her eyes as she puts her hand in Roman’s as well, and we both get out of our seats.

Bang.

Confusion washes over me as an explosive sound rings out, so sudden and so deafening that I’m barely able to register it. My eyebrows knit together as I watch Roman’s expression drop. I quickly glance at Riley, whose confused expression is slowly contorting into one of fear.

Bang.

“What the fuck…” I trail off. It doesn’t register in my mind at all that the sound I’m hearing is gunshots until the area goes from cozy, light chatter to a screaming mass of terrified bodies running in all sorts of directions.

Panic quickly begins to seep into my pores, and before I know it, I jump to my feet. I have no idea what is happening, no idea where the bullets are coming from. My breathing starts to grow unsteady as I frantically look from left to right, desperately trying to scan the room but unable to focus on one thing. Everything within my vision starts to blur.

Bang.

"Get down!" Roman's voice cuts through the chaos, his commanding tone leaving no room for argument. In an instant, his hand is on my shoulder, pushing me down with surprising gentleness despite the urgency of his movements. I feel the cold, hard floor beneath my palms as I scramble under the table, my heart pounding so loudly I can barely hear the screams around me.

Riley is beside me, her face pale with fear, eyes wide and glassy. I reach out and grip her hand, feeling her trembling fingers intertwine with mine. The world seems to slow down, each second stretching into an eternity as panic and adrenaline course through my veins.

From our position under the table, I can see feet rushing past, a frantic stampede of expensive shoes and stumbling heels. The air is thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and fear. Glasses shatter somewhere nearby, the tinkling sound of breaking crystal mixing with the terrified shouts and screams. I flinch at each new noise, my body tensing as if preparing for impact.

Through the chaos, I catch a glimpse of Roman. I watch in stunned disbelief as Roman's hand disappears beneath his jacket, emerging with a sleek black pistol. The sight of the weapon sends a jolt through my system, my brain struggling to reconcile the charming man from moments ago with this dangerous entity before me.

"Stay down," he orders again, his voice low and intense. "Don't move unless I tell you to."

Another shot rings out, closer this time. I hear the splintering of wood, and my heart leaps into my throat as I realize bullets are flying dangerously near. Riley whimpers beside me, and I squeeze her hand tighter, trying to offer comfort even as terror threatens to overwhelm me.

Roman's movements are fluid and practiced. Crouched and using the overturned table as cover, his eyes are cold and focused as he exchanges fire with unseen assailants. His eyes, once warm and inviting, are now cold and focused. The transformation is jarring, like watching a mask slip away to reveal something entirely different underneath.

I knew he was in trouble from the moment I saw him. I could see it in those dark eyes, that handsome grin of his.

But this wasn’t just trouble.

It was danger.

The thunderous bursts of his gun is deafening, each shot reverberating through my bones. Muzzle flashes illuminate his face in stark, intermittent bursts, casting harsh shadows across his chiseled features.

I can't tear my eyes away from him as I watch him fire, each blast sending shockwaves through my body. I'm frozen in place, my mind unable to process the chaos unfolding aroundus. Suddenly, a pained cry cuts through the noise, followed by the dull thud of something hitting the floor. The shooting stops abruptly, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

Before I can even begin to make sense of what's happening, Roman's strong hands are on us, pulling Riley and me to our feet with urgent force. "We need to move. Now!" he commands, his voice steely and unwavering.

I stumble as he pulls us forward, my legs feeling like jelly beneath me. The casino floor has transformed into a war zone—overturned tables, shattered glass, and discarded chips litter the ground.

Roman's grip on my wrist tightens as he pulls me through the chaotic casino floor—my heart pounds in my ears, drowning out the screams and shattering glass around us. We weave between overturned tables and panicked patrons, the acrid smell of gunpowder burning my nostrils.

"Keep moving!" Roman shouts over his shoulder, his eyes scanning our surroundings with lethal focus. I stumble, my heels catching on the plush carpet, but his iron grip keeps me upright.

Riley trails just behind us, her fingers digging into my other arm. I can feel her trembling through our connected hands. "Gwen," she whimpers, her voice barely audible above the din, "I can't—"

A deafening crack splits the air. Roman jerks suddenly, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. My stomach lurches as I see a bloom of red spreading across his shoulder. He's been hit.

"Roman!" I cry out, my voice raw with panic.

He doesn't slow down; if anything, his pace quickens. "Keep moving!" he growls through gritted teeth, his face a mask of determination and pain.

But Riley has seen the blood. Her eyes go wide, pupils dilating with terror. "Oh god, oh god," she stammers, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "He's... he's been shot!"

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