Page 93 of Forbidden Vows

“More incoming!” one of our own says into my earpiece. “Six, maybe more. They’re packing heavy, sir.”

“Keep them down here!” I order as I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure.

Sergei Kuznetsov slowly approaches, though he doesn’t look so brave and defiant anymore. A stoic expression shadows his face while his men keep firing and taking bullets. He seems to be looking for a way out.

I move away from the fireworks, trusting Declan and his men to handle the situation while I inch closer to Sergei.

“Hey, asshole!” I shout after him.

He sees me and turns white. “No!”

“What did you expect?” I reply and start firing.

He ducks out of the way, then trips and stumbles up a narrow stairway leading to the upper floor.

“Son of a…” I mutter and start running after him.

Something slams into me from the side with the full force of a linebacker. I’m thrown against the wall, the wind knocked out of my lungs. For a hot second, everything turns white as I hear the rushed sound of Sergei’s footsteps as he climbs the metallic ladder.

The guard I’m wrestling with is big and packed with hard-as-rock muscles. His left hook catches me in the side of my head, making my ears ring.

My instincts kick in. My main weapon is on the floor out of reach, knocked out of my hand when he rushed me. I have another one I can reach, if only—

I grunt as he kicks me in the gut.

It feels as though I was hit with a battering ram.

My vision turns red as I catch my breath. I’m furious as I start hitting back. Unlike my aggressor, however, I’m not banking on force. I’m banking on quick and deadly. I need to catch up to Sergei before it’s too late.

I know where he’s going.

Chapter 32

Eileen

“Something is happening downstairs,” I tell Ciara.

We both hear the noise. The shouting. The incessant popping of automatic weapons. Footsteps thud past our door. My heart races as I look around the cramped office that we’ve been stuck in for who knows how long. Everything happened so fast from the moment they moved us out of that house.

“What do we do?” Ciara asks me. The bruises on her face break my very soul whenever I look at her. “We are not safe in this matchbox.”

“No, we’re not,” I agree.

I try the windows first, but they’re bolted. I grab the fire extinguisher and try to break the glass with it, but it doesn’t budge.

“This glass is most likely bulletproof, dammit,” I curse as I set the fire extinguisher down. My arms feel heavy. My legs are shaking. The adrenaline and fear are doing quite the number on me.

“We could bust open the door,” Ciara suggests with a trembling voice.

“Yeah, but Sergei’s goons—” I pause mid-sentence as the door opens.

A guard comes in with a grim look on his face. His gun is cocked and ready in his hand as he looks at Ciara, then at me. “Boss says we’re leaving,” he tells us.

“Hold on, what’s happening downstairs?” I ask.

He points the gun at me. “Not your business. He doesn’t need you anymore. Just Ciara.”

“Wait, no!” Ciara cries out and lunges at him.

---