Page 103 of Bound By Revenge

Chapter 39

Kat

The sharp crackof gunfire echoes through the store, and I freeze, my breath hitching as I whip my head around, trying to figure out where the shots came from.

Dmitri reacts instantly—his hand dives inside his jacket for his gun, and before I can say another word, he’s yanking me down behind a clothing rack.

“Just our luck,” I mutter under my breath, my pulse racing. “Our day off, and these assholes decide to hit this store of all places.”

Dmitri’s eyes dart around the shop, his body tense like a coiled spring. “It’s not a robbery,” he mutters under his breath.

I blink at him, my voice rising. “What do you mean it’s not a robbery?”

“It’s the Irish,” he says, low and clipped, his jaw tight.

I gape at him. “You don’t know that?—”

“Shh,” he cuts me off, clamping his hand over my mouth, his expression dead serious. “Idoknow. Trust me.”

As if on cue, he’s proven right within seconds when a thick Irish accent booms out: “Where the hell is she? Find hernow!”

The blood drains from my face, and I mutter against Dmitri’s hand, “I guess Nik was right.”

He shoots me a sharp look. “You think?”

“How the hell did they even find us?” I whisper

“They’ve probably been tailing us since we left the penthouse,” Dmitri grits out, shaking his head. “Fuck.I should’ve spotted it.”

“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, though even I can hear how weak that sounds.

He exhales sharply. “Doesn’t matter now. We need to get the fuck out of here. We’re outnumbered, outgunned, and I can’t get backup here in time. If they find us...” He pauses, his expression dark. “They’ll kill me and take you. And if you die on my watch, Nik will find a way to drag me back from hell just so he can kill me himself.”

I let out a shaky, bitter laugh. “I amsofucking done being fucking kidnapped by fucking mobsters," I mutter, my frustration bubbling over. “Let’s go. Lead the way.

Dmitri grabs my hand, and we crawl through the store, keeping low as McGuire’s men unleash chaos. Salespeople scream, shelves crash to the ground, and the air is thick with panic. Somehow, we make it to the back of the store unnoticed.

An emergency exit looms ahead, but I hesitate.

“Wait!” I whisper sharply as Dmitri reaches for the handle. “If you open that, it might set off an alarm.”

He shrugs, his expression hard. “We’re out of options. Get ready. When I open this, you run. Go as fast as you can. Don’t look back. Don't stop. And don’t wait for me. Just run until you hit the main road.”

“But your car’s parked out back,” I protest.

“Forget the car. The main road’s our best shot. It's busy—we can lose them there,” he says, already bracing to shove the door open.

I want to argue, to point out how reckless this plan sounds, but I know he’s right. We don’t have time.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice low and urgent.

I nod, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Three… two… one.”

The door swings open, no alarm blaring, but the groan of the heavy metal door is deafening. It’s enough.

Shouts erupt behind us, and my stomach clenches as I hear footsteps pounding in pursuit.

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