Page 54 of Wrapped in Silver

The Russians are fast to the draw, shooting Reggie in the shoulder and the throat, activating more silent tears as I scramble back up to the second floor.

I run to the room and shut the door. It’s only a matter of time. Staring out the window where David’s body lies awkwardly on the ground—limbs sprawled—I wonder if it’s worth trying for the drain pipe and probably breaking both my legs. Or worse.

“Quinn, hunnie. What’s going on? Everything okay out here? Heard a loud noise,”Mara’s tired voice comes from down the way.

I hear footsteps everywhere. Hers are soft. The Russians’ are hard. Bootsclunkingup the steps.

“Ahh!”Mara shrieks.

Shhrthm!

My God. They shot her. An unarmed, innocent woman.

Scanning the room, there’s nothing around me I can use for a weapon. The painting is too awkward. Globe in the corner is made of hard plastic. I’mdead, unless I try out the window.

Boom!

They kick open the wrong door across the way… which means mine is next.

I look out the window and steel myself to jump for the drain pipe. No choice. Have to. Life or death.

And just as I open the window wider and step onto the window ledge, I see him. A fat man in a leather jacket, holding a cigar with a mask over his face.

I’mscrewed.

Boom!

The door kicks in.

“Don’t you fucking move, pretty princess.”A bratva man stomps in, and I freeze.

He tears at my hair so I fall backward onto my tailbone, feeling the rip of strands from my head.

“Stupid bitch.”He drags me by the hair as I kick and scream, then grabs for my throat.

We look each other in the eyes.

I’m gasping for air. His fingers are like dirty talons around my throat. I can feel them piercing and squeezing like an animal who caught its prey.

“Your family causes a lot of trouble for us. Now be a good little bitch and stay quiet.”He widens his eyes threateningly.

Thinking of all those self-defense classes my father sent me to growing up… how to disarm, how to disable, how to mace. All of its useless with a man twice my size. I can feel the blood constricting as I scratch at his wrist for him to let up.

No.I won’t die a coward.

I’m Captain Dall’s fucking daughter.

I swing my body and kick his inner thigh.

“Mmph,” he groans, loosening his grip just enough for a desperate gulp of air.

My vision is wavy like I just got knocked in the face, and as I’m about to kick again, a backhand sends me flying in the other direction, crashing into the dresser.

The point hits between my ribs, leaving more stars floating in my vision.

“Feisty one.” The second Russian ducks into the room.

He’s taller… the one who manhandled my father, and he’s terrifying.

---