Page 67 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

“Go,” I commanded, hurrying toward the bomb, assessing each wire as I got closer.

Before I could reach it to get started, she grabbed my arm, digging in her heels and tugging me away. “Dima, what the hell are you doing?” she yelled.

Thirty-seven, thirty-six…

“The whole house will be destroyed if I don’t dismantle that thing,” I told her. “Now get out, and don’t stop running until you get past the driveway.”

I thought I was being perfectly reasonable, but she still refused to go, grabbing onto me and yanking with all her might. “I don’t give a damn about the house,” she screamed in terror. “I’m not leaving without you.”

Well, fuck. I looked at the countdown. There wasn’t enough time to disarm the bomb now, and we were both about to be blown to smithereens. I swore again and picked her up,slinging her over my shoulder and hauling ass toward the front door.

I had a rough idea of the blast radius and kept going even as we cleared the door and made it to the front lawn. My mental countdown kept going with every step, and I flung myself to the ground, rolling so that Olivia landed on me. Then, I curled my body around hers as the house went up in a deafening roar.

Debris rained down all around us, and I shielded her as best I could, getting smacked with burning hot roof tiles and bits of wood. One of the brass bedroom door knobs landed a few feet from our heads, and the teapot dinged off my back and bounced away.

When it was all over, and smoke filled the air around us, I rolled away to make sure nothing had hit Olivia. My back and arms were in various degrees of pain from getting pummeled by bits of the house, but except for the injuries Kuzmin had inflicted, she seemed fine.

“It’s over,” I said, wiping away the tears that streaked down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. “We’re fine.”

Pulling her to sit up, I tried to wrap my arms around her until her tears subsided, but she scooted back, wound up her arm, and slapped me hard enough to make my jaw rattle.

“The hell?”

“The hell, nothing,” she cried, looking so furious I braced for another smack. Then she threw her arms around me and held on tight. “Don’t you ever, ever risk your life like that again.”

I didn’t dare laugh, and just held her until she was slightly less hysterical. “What about you?” I asked a few moments later. “You risked your life running back in after me. Why would you do that?”

I took her face in my hands and swiped away her tears with my thumbs, taking in her beauty and searching her eyes for the truth. What I saw there was a reflection of everything I felt in my own heart. It had to be real. There was no way she could fake that, not after she ran straight toward a bomb for me.

She was still crying too hard to answer right away. I held onto her and held my breath, waiting for my fate to be sealed one way or another as the house burned behind us.

Chapter 41 - Olivia

Where was my upper limit for fear? Every time I thought there was no way I could feel more absolute, crushing terror, something new happened to prove me wrong. When I saw Dima’s face as his eyes honed in the bomb, everything went haywire in my brain.

And now he was honestly asking why I went back for him?

I couldn’t answer through the torrent of tears. I felt like crap for slapping him, but my hand acted on its own. My nerves were raw, still not certain we were both really okay. Smoke filled my nose, and the air seemed ten degrees hotter than normal.

Oh my God, the house—what was left of it—was on fire. Flames licked toward the sky, now thick with a dark haze. More sobs ripped from my throat. Had he really tried to stay in there and defuse the bomb to save the house?

He knew I loved that house, but it was just wood and concrete. It was the memories we made there that made it anything more than a pretty mansion. And what would I do with those memories if I was wracked with eternal guilt because he’d died in order to try to keep me happy?

Dima leaned back to wipe the tears from my face, but it was like attempting to stanch a waterfall. New anger welled up in me, and I grabbed his arms and gave him a hard shake. It didn’t budge him at all, and it was then that I noticed all the cuts and scorch marks he suffered from shielding me.

My mind went blank, and I hauled back to hit him again, starting up a new round of sobs. He grabbed my wrist before it made contact with his scratched cheek and smiled.

He actually smiled.

“You care about me,” he said.

“Of course I do,” I choked out, going limp as he held me tight. “Of course, I wasn’t about to let you die after I already put you through so much.” I buried my face in his chest, trying to come to my senses, but it was too late. It all came spilling out before I could stop it. “Of course I love you.”

His hands stilled from where they’d been rubbing up and down my back. My crying cut off abruptly in anticipation, waiting for his reaction. He leaned back, keeping a firm grip on me so I wouldn’t disintegrate, and looked me in the eyes.

“Have you ever doubted I feel the same?”

I couldn’t look away even though my cheeks burned, and it had nothing to do with the wall of heat coming off the remains of the house. “I think you’d do anything for a friend in need.”

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