Page 195 of Toxic Salvation
Because Yana never makes it that far. She sways, her eyes roll back in their sockets, and she hits the ground.
“I killed her,” Luka whimpers. “I killed her.”
Vesper grabs him and pulls him to her chest, turning his face away from Yana’s body. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be?—”
Her gaze finds mine, then goes wide with panic as she notices something behind me. She opens her mouth to warn me, but I already feel his shadow looming.
I duck just in time to avoid the bullet that whistles past my head. “Luka, Vesper, take cover!”
Where the fuck are my men?
I reach for my gun, but it’s rolled too far under the bed. I’ll have to do this with my bare hands.
Fine by me.
First, I need to disarm the bastard. As he approaches, taking aim again, I spin and kick his shins hard.
“Fuck!” Ihor doubles over, his eyes blazing with fury as the gun slips from his grip.
But Ihor didn’t rise to power by accident. He’s got twenty years on me, but those years have made him deadlier. He’s got strength and cunning. In many ways, he trained me to fight. He showed me how to shoot. He molded me into the fighter I am today.
Which means he knows all my weaknesses.
Before I can go on the offensive, he hits me in the ribs. I stumble backward, trying to suck in air before his next strike.
I dodge his second punch by inches, feeling the wind graze my cheek. There’s banging outside the apartment. Then a crash.
“Uncle Pavel!” Luka screams. “We’re in here!”
Ihor’s eyes dart wildly. He knows he’s cornered now. If my men are here, they’ve gotten past his.
“Last man standing, Ihor?” I smile.
“Figures you’d need an army to defeat me. Can’t do it alone, can you, boy?”
I shake my head in disappointment. “You think you can goad me into dropping my guard? Those tactics are beneath you.”
The room fills with bodies. I glance over my shoulder to see Pavel, Osip, and several of my men in the doorway.
“We got him,” Osip announces.
“No,” I turn back to Ihor. “I’vegot him.”
I feint toward his fallen gun. As Ihor surges forward, trying to reach it first, I kick his knees hard. There’s a sickening crunch, then Ihor drops like a stone.
“Fuck!” he roars, clutching his shattered knee.
I bend over and pick up the gun. Ihor stares up at me, his eyes small with fear.
“Are you going to beg for your life, old man? I’ll offer you the courtesy of last words.”
Ihor looks past me at Luka. “The boy is mine.”
I squat down in front of him, dangling the gun between my fingers. A bullet’s too good for this piece of shit. I should throttle him with my bare hands. “Yeah?”
“I’m not lying,” Ihor insists. “What would I gain from lying now? The boy is mine. I am his father.”
“I know.”
