Page 28 of Rafi

Then they appear, emerging from between the containers like ghosts. Men, too many to count at a glance, their movements synchronized. Guns glint under the harsh lights, and the unmistakable click of safeties being released fills the air.

“Shit,” Jayson mutters, his voice tight.

“Stay calm,” I snap, scanning the faces in the crowd.

A man steps forward, his silhouette broad and menacing. His voice cuts through the night, thick with a Russian accent. “Gatti,” he says, his tone dripping with smugness. “You’ve been busy.”

I don’t flinch. “And you’ve been sloppy,” I fire back, keeping my voice steady. “The docks? That’s practically an invitation for me to crash your party.”

He smirks, a predator playing with its prey. “Or a warning,” he counters. “You should’ve stayed away from the girl.”

My blood runs cold.

“The girl?” I echo, keeping my tone steady even as my grip on the weapon at my side tightens.

“You made a mistake getting involved with Tayana Aslanov,” he says, his smile widening as he savors the shock he expects to see on my face. “And now you’ll pay for it. As will she.”

I don’t let the name throw me. I can’t. But the way it rolls off his tongue feels wrong, invasive, like he’s stolen something sacred. The implications settle over me like a vise, squeezing the air from my lungs. If they know who Tayana really is, she must be in danger.

“Fuck,” Jayson hisses, shifting beside me. “If I survive this, your brothers are going to kill me.”

I force my lips into a smirk, my voice dripping with false confidence. “Take it easy,” I say, my mind racing. The odds are stacked against us—too many men, too precise in theirmovements. The Russians don’t do messy, and this whole setup reeks of calculation.

“Today,” the man continues, his tone deceptively casual. “We make an example of you. Then you can join Aslanov in her crate.”

A coffin.He means a coffin.Which means I’m here facing down one threat, and Tayana is probably facing down another. I hope to God her security team finally earns their keep and holds them off until I get there. Because I have no intention of dying here today. And I have no intention of letting anything happen to Tayana.

I raise an eyebrow, forcing a smirk. “I have a better idea,” I tell him, and I know that my self-assured cockiness has got the better of him. “Why don’t we forego the crates, and I feed you all to the fish instead?”An invitation.

His smirk falters for a fraction of a second, and that’s all I need. The first shot rings out, the crack of gunfire splitting the night. Chaos erupts.

Jayson and I dive for cover, bullets ricocheting off the metal walls of the containers. The air fills with the sharp tang of gunpowder and the deafening roar of combat.

“We’re fucked!” Jayson yells, crouched behind a crate.

“I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of dying here today,” I growl, scanning for an opening.

Adrenaline surges through me as I move, my weapon an extension of my body. The Russians are everywhere, their precision cutting off every avenue of escape. But I don’t care about escaping. I care about getting to Tayana.

We trade fire, the dock erupting into a battlefield. I dart between shadows, my focus razor-sharp. Each step forward feels like a small victory, but it’s not enough.

All I can think is that Tayana’s lead was a death sentence; someone orchestrated this whole thing, using her as bait, andnow she’s out there, vulnerable. The thought sends a wave of fury crashing over me, hot and blinding.

The rage fuels me, turning every shot into a promise. I don’t fight like a man trying to survive—I fight like a madman trying to get to her. Every bullet I fire feels like a step closer to breaking the chains these bastards have tried to wrap around me, around her.

On my count, Jayson and I rise, sending a spray of bullets through the air towards the Russians, then dive behind another crate as we edge along the dock, stealthy against the inky night.

“We need a plan!” Jayson shouts, his voice cutting through the haze.

“The plan is simple,” I snap, my voice a growl. “We don’t die, and I get to Tayana.”

I charge forward, my movements reckless but precise. The Russians are good, but they don’t have the same desperation driving them.

Just as the thought solidifies, a deafening roar cuts through the firefight. Headlights pierce the darkness as a black SUV barrels onto the scene, skidding to a halt. The doors fly open, and two figures step out, their presence commanding. Mason Ironside and Kanyan De Scarzi - the Enforcer.

“About fucking time,” I mutter under my breath, relief washing over me, even as I wonder how they knew where to find us.

Mason wastes no time, his shotgun booming as he takes down two Russians in quick succession. Kanyan moves like a force of nature, his strikes precise and devastating. The Russians scramble, their formation breaking under the sudden onslaught.

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