Page 63 of The Bratva's Arranged Bride

“What is it?” I asked, able to see the clear tension in his body.

“I don’t know…something doesn’t feel right,” he murmured, clearly suspicious of something I wasn’t aware of.

Keeping his uncertainty in mind, I watched while Range Rovers pulled in closer, but the moment their windows started to roll down, a sense of dread rolled over me.

The bullets came next, hitting the ground first and sending up a spray of dirt before some met their targets and knocked our guys down.

“Shit—”

Suddenly yanked back, I felt Daniil’s grip on my collar while he pulled me behind the vehicle, and his expression was more intense and focused than before.

“We’ve been set up,” he muttered, using the SUV as a shield while he ducked in and out, firing at the tires and men while our guards did the same.

Forced to regain my bearings at a moment’s notice, I lifted my gun and aimed at one of the vehicles as their doors popped open and more men rolled out.

It was clear they were hoping to get closer to take more of us down, but our force didn’t let that happen.

Even if we were caught off guard, we hit them hard, focusing on taking down as many as we physically could.

As Daniil rose again to aim at a few men approaching our left side, one of the bullets nicked his bicep, forcing the breath from his lungs as he put a hand against it instinctively.

“Daniil!” I shouted, overcome by immediate concern as I pulled him back down, watching as he leaned against the vehicle.

“Fuck…I’m fine,” he uttered, pulling his hand away to reveal much less blood than I was expecting. “It grazed me.”

While that offered me some relief, I still wasn’t okay with how close it had been. Even if he was bleeding, it certainly wasn’t urgent.

“Don’t worry about me…just get the bastards.”

His demand reminded me of the task at hand, and I pivoted, taking up his spot before aiming at the drivers through the windshield.

Out of the four, one was already killed, while two more fled the vehicles to join the others.

With my sights set on the last, I pulled the trigger, piercing the windshield before the bullet met its mark, and he slumped in his seat.

The exchanged gunfire was heavy, but it was clear they had more men packed into those Range Rovers than anticipated.

As our guys fought hard, taking them down one by one, I couldn’t help but notice the sloppiness in their work. Despite flooding in as a unit, they lacked coordination and cohesion. They were all over the place, almost like rabid animals set out to take out whatever they could find.

It was too similar…too much of a coincidence.

Despite his grazed arm, Daniil got in a few more shots of his own and didn’t let it slow him down too much.

Finally, the last man still breathing was nicked in the leg, and as he went down in a heap, the gunfire stopped.

In the wake of that chaos, an eerie stillness filled the space, and I could finally let out a quiet breath.

Wiping my forehead with the back of my hand, I half expected Daniil to take it easy, but he moved by me in a blur.

At once, he was on the hostage, grabbing him by his injured leg. The man cried out from the pain while he was dragged through the dirt until Daniil dropped his leg roughly and pointed the gun in his face.

“You’re going to tell me everything you know, or I’m going to put her down right here…very, very slowly,” my brother demanded, hovering a boot above the open wound.

The man’s eyes widened, visibly trembling from the pain and likely fear to top it off.

“Please…help me.”

“No,” he snapped back, his demeanor cold once he settled back into his usual groove. “If you want to avoid a long, grueling death, then I suggest you talk.”

---