Page 26 of Married to the Bratva

I stumble down the stairs, my hands gripping the rail for balance. The sounds of the fight above me—grunts, thuds, the metallic clang of bodies hitting steel—send a fresh wave of panic coursing through me. But I don’t look back. I can’t.

When I reach the fire exit, I freeze. Another man is waiting in the open doorway, a gun leveled at me. Time slows to a halt.

The man sneers, stepping closer. “End of the line, sweetheart.”

I close my eyes but then an arm wraps around my waist. I look back in time to see Maxim yanking me off my feet.

His other hand raises the pistol, and then bang. The shot is so close my ears ring. The man drops like a puppet with its strings cut, a hole right between his eyes.

I stare at the body, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Maxim doesn’t let me linger. He pulls me over it into the alley, the sudden sunlight blinding me.

The air is sharp and cold against my face, a jarring contrast to the claustrophobic heat of the stairwell.

A black SUV is parked nearby, its engine idling like it’s been waiting for us. Maxim practically throws me into the passengerseat, slamming the door behind me before rounding the hood and sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Buckle up,” he orders as he guns the engine.

I barely have time to obey before the tires screech against the pavement, the SUV lurching forward. I glance out the window and see three more men burst into the alley from the fire exit, guns raised.

The SUV barrels onto the street and they disappear from view. We weave through traffic with terrifying precision. My hands clutch the seatbelt across my chest as I try to catch my breath.

“What the hell just happened?” I demand, my voice trembling. “Who were they?”

Maxim’s jaw is tight, his eyes fixed on the road. “Federico wants you dead before you can unlock that file. Sent them to kill you.”

“To kill me?” I let out a groan. “That’s just fucking fantastic. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You pissed off a lot of people with that kill code of yours,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “The timer’s visible now.”

“Which means?”

“Which means you have thirty days to unlock that file or we’re both dead.”

19

MAXIM

“You’re taking it well,” I say, turning to face Sophie.

She sits on the leather couch in my penthouse, looking like a cornered animal, her back straight, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She hasn’t said a word since we arrived, and the tension rolling off her is palpable.

“Screaming won’t help,” she replies. “I thought about smashing something but I didn’t want your cleaners to have any extra work.”

“Very thoughtful. Do you know what your fiancé did when he stole from me and fucked about with that encryption code?”

“Ex-fiancé,” she snaps, her tone sharp enough to draw blood. “And no, Maxim, why don’t you enlighten me?”

I cross the room, pouring myself a drink. Her eyes follow me, wary and defiant. Even now, after everything, she has fire. I can’t decide if that’s admirable or foolish.

“He started a mob war,” I say simply. “Federico versus me. There can only be one winner and I’ll give you a clue. It won’t be him.”

Her brow furrows, confusion flickering across her face before being swallowed by anger. “And that’s my problem, how?”

“He didn’t do it alone,” I reply, my tone measured. “You designed the code and now he’s disappeared. That leaves you the only one who can clean up his mess.”

She stands abruptly, the motion jarring in the quiet. “I didn’t know what he was going to use it for,” she says, her voice trembling.

“Federico thinks if you’re dead the money dies with you,”

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