Page 11 of Vitaly

“Suka!” he growls, kicking me in rapid succession until it feels impossible for me to breathe.

“Come on, get the bodies. We can fuck this bitch up at the house,” the new guy says, taking me under my arms and dragging me toward the SUV. Breaths wheeze in and out my lungs while I gasp and roll my head side to side.

A ripple of shame runs through me that hurts worse than the broken ribs. A few kicks was all it took to have me defeated like this.

But I can’t be defeated. Not yet.

Because I’m from this world, and I know that what happens after I get into the SUV is ten times worse than dying on this street.

I let him drag me while focusing on regaining my strength. They have the advantage over me with their size, so trying to rip out of his hold isn’t going to work.

He opens the back door of the SUV then hauls me to my feet. While his head is in the door, I summon a burst of energy to grab the handle and yank the door as hard as I can, slamming the metal against his skull.

“Fuck!” he roars as I shove him to the ground then take off into the alley, my arm cradling my ribs.

What I hoped would be a valiant escape winds up feeling more like a hopeless attempt with how badly my pain slows me down. I try to fight through it, try to pretend it isn’t there, but every breath, every exertion, threatens to yank me to the ground. I only make it halfway through the alley before the tall guy tackles me onto the cold, unforgiving concrete.

“You like to fight,suka?” he rasps, flipping me over and pinning my arms to the ground. His weight on my ribs makes me scream out, but he only laughs and spits on my cheek.

“I didn’t want to kill you,suka. But now? Now I’m going to enjoy it.” His hand wraps around my neck and squeezes until my lungs are no longer at odds with my ribs.

I kick limply at air while praying he’ll let go so I can give him my last words. My vision blurs. I’m almost out of time.

Tell Papa I’m sorry I failed him.

The man wouldn’t care. He’d probably laugh. He’s street scum. He doesn’t understand honor, glory.

He doesn’t understand the shame my death will bring to my family. The status we will lose without me there to whisper in Nikita’s ear why my father should remain a trusted lieutenant.

My eyes water, blurring my murderer’s image.

And then a gun fires.

Tall Guy’s eyes widen before the life leaves them, his loosening grip granting me my first breath. I cough and gasp as his heavy weight falls on me, crushing me until someone rolls him off.

I blink at the hooded figure, my vision still blurry, my throat raw. For several moments, I think it must be one of the other men, but none were wearing a hood, and none had the same tall, muscular frame. His face is shadowed, so I can’t see much of him. When his hand reaches for me to take, I start to question if he’s some strange Las Vegas superhero. Like I just entered a comic book.

What is he, a vigilante? Does he have any idea who he just fucked with?

They’ll kill him for this.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs, stretching his palm toward me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I look between his hand and face then shake my head. “Just go,” I squeak out, my throat sore. I try to swallow past the pain as I wave the man off.

You don’t know what you just did. They’re going to come for you.

I want to say the words, but every breath comes as a wheeze, leaving me wondering if I punctured a lung. It could be too late to save me anyway. I can barely speak.

“Please,” I manage. “Go.”

He bends, revealing just a sliver of his face in the sparse moonlight. He has a strong jaw. A sharp nose. A tiny cleft in his chin.

I think maybe he’ll try to argue, to continue with his vigilante duties, so when he pulls a needle from his pocket, my jaw drops. I can barely shape my lips to protest before my arms are

pinned. He inserts the needle into my neck.

I lay staring at the stranger, helpless and broken as he leans in close to smooth his palms over my eyelids. “Go to sleep, Mila. You’ll feel better soon.”

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