Page 35 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

My chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. What the fuck was happening?

Polina glared at Masha. “You fucked my fiancé good, huh?”

Masha began pleading in Russian, her voice high-pitched, frantic.

Polina calmly reached into the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out a blade. She twirled it between her fingers. “He told you I was okay with you fucking him?”

My pulse pounded. Oh, shit. She should’ve kept her damn mouth shut.

Polina’s expression turned ice-cold. “I don’t approve of any woman fucking my man,” she said, voice razor-sharp.

Then she raised the knife high over her head.

“Polina, no. Stop,” Ivan’s voice thundered from behind us.

Polina spat something in Russian, then jammed the knife into Masha’s chest.

Ivan lunged, grabbing Polina and yanking her back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he roared, his face twisted in fury.

The relentless ringing in my ears was deafening, and my entire body convulsed with a violent intensity. It felt like I was next on death’s list. My heart sank with the realization that I’d never see my dad, sister, and brother again. They’d remain in the dark about my fate forever.

Masha’s head lolled between her shoulders, a grotesque fountain of blood trickling down her lifeless body.

Ivan’s voice cut through the chaos. “This is an arranged marriage, Polina,” he reminded her, his tone tight with frustration.

Polina turned to him, eyes blazing. “So what? You think I’m just supposed to sit back and let you play with your little toys?”

“Claire was never a toy,” Ivan snapped. “She’s my girlfriend. We’ve been together since high school.”

Polina’s expression twisted into something dark and dangerous. Without hesitation, she pulled a Glock from her waist holster and pointed it at me.

My heart thundered in my chest, each beat a drum of impending doom.

My right eye involuntarily closed, impairing my vision at the worst possible moment. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. I wouldn’t have to witness the shot that would end me.

“Oh, so she’s still your girlfriend?” Polina screamed, her voice echoing off the warehouse walls.

Ivan was going to get me killed.

“She didn’t even know about you until last night,” he admitted, his voice strained.

At least he told the truth.

Polina’s grip tightened. Her lips curled into a snarl. “I don’t believe you,” she spat.

Then she pulled the trigger.

A deafening bang cracked through the air.

Pain exploded through me, white-hot and searing. A scream tore from my throat.

My good eye fluttered open just in time to see Ivan seize the gun, yanking it upward over Polina’s head. His wild, frantic gaze found mine.

“Get her out of here,” he roared.

Polina barked orders, desperate to assert control, but it was clear who held the most power in the Bratva.

The pain, the blood soaking my clothes, the icy numbness creeping over my skin. It was all too much. My body convulsed. The edges of my vision blurred.

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