Page 21 of Kidnapped Prisoner By the Bratva
He stopped in his tracks, listening.
“Kill them all.”
I couldn’t see his face, but I was certain he’d smirk at the sound of that. Killing the enemy was his favorite thing to do.
I moved through the darkness like a predator, familiar with every corner of the building. Those fuckers never should’ve invaded; that was a stupid move, and it would cost them dearly.
Behind me, I heard footsteps pounding heavily, and then with an instinctive move, I tilted my head to the side. That was how I dodged a bullet. Literally. I swiveled, squeezing three rounds, one for each assailant behind me.
I didn’t realize another was coming at me from the other side. By the time I turned, the man had already kicked my gun out of my hand. He threw himself into the air, his foot connecting with my chest seconds later.
I slipped and fell backward, but was quick to sweep his feet off the floor. Like soldiers on a battlefield, we sprang to our feet, throwing kicks and punches. He was bigger than me—almost twice my size—but I was faster and smart enough to know that one punch from him could disorient me or worse, knock me out.
So, while he was busy throwing all those blows and kicks, I was calculating his moves. I dodged all his advances, deflecting as many as I could until finally I trapped his arm in mine. With one twist, I snapped it with a sickening crack.
He threw his head backward, groaning like a wounded animal. With his free hand, he unsheathed a blade. I was quick to step aside, but not until after he cut through my arm.
There was no time to wince at my pain; this motherfucker was still coming at me with only one hand. He must have been right-handed, considering that he couldn’t successfully land a single strike with his left hand.
This was my window. And I took it.
He threw a reckless swing. I ducked, retaliating with my knee to his ribcage. Hard and crashing. He bellowed, forced to drop the knife, his face contorted in pain. I bent over, wrapped my arms around his legs, and lifted him with one single sweep. His arms flailed in the air, and then a second later, I threw him backward, making sure he landed on his neck.
Crack.
His dead body lay sprawled on the floor, eyes wide open. I towered over him, breathing heavily. An alarm went off in my head, and without hesitation, I ducked, rolled over the floor, and lifted his body above me.
The guy at the end of the hallway fired his gun, but the dead man’s body absorbed all the shots. Strategically, I snatched the discarded blade off the floor and hurled it at my attacker.
The shooting stopped. And the gun fell from his hand. He dropped to his knees with the knife buried in his left eye, blood rushing down his cheeks. His limp body thudded to the floor.
I heard her scream from her room, and my pulse spiked. “Wren,” I whispered, rising to my feet. I picked up my gun and raced toward her bedroom, my footsteps pounding against the floor.
The door to her room was already yanked wide open by the time I arrived. I hoped I wasn’t too late until I saw the masked man standing in front of her bed with his rifle aimed at her.
She was seated on the mattress with her back against the headboard, the sheets clutched in her tight grip. Death looked her straight in the face, and she was terrified. Her eyes were wide with fear, her lips quivering as though she was muttering a prayer.
Not today. Not onmywatch.
I fired four times, four precise shots that buried four bullets in his temple.
She screamed, her body stiffening at the sound of the gunshots.
The intruder fell over the couch, and it flipped over his dead body. I barged into the room, eyes scanning for any potential threats, but it appeared he was the only one who made it in here.
Wren hugged a pillow with tightly shut eyes as she shook like a leaf. I walked up to the bed, my shoes scuffing against the floor, my gaze pinned on her.
“Are you okay?” I asked, calm and gentle.
She opened her eyes, her breath jagged and uneven, lips still quivering from the fear coursing through her.
“Are you hurt?”
She hesitated, then shook her head.
“Good.”
Her eyes darted to the dead guy behind me, her palm resting on her chest as if to stop her heart from jumping out.
