Page 62 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
A rapid staccato burst, frighteningly close. The sounds vibrated through the reinforced steel of the car, chilling me to the bone. My eyes scanned the shattered windows, trying to locate the source and assess the threat.
“Danil!” Igor roared, his voice strained. “Ambush! Get down!”
But it was already too late.
A sharp impact slammed into my side, just below my ribcage. A searing, white-hot pain bloomed instantly, spreading outward like wildfire. My breath hitched, a strangled gasp escaping my lips. My hand flew to the spot, fingers coming away wet and slick.
Blood. Dark, crimson, spreading rapidly.
The world tilted. Sounds became muffled. The shouts, the gunfire, the grinding metal—it all faded into a distant dream. My vision blurred, the edges of the car’s interior swimming before my eyes. My body felt heavy, impossibly heavy, as I sank into the luxurious leather seat.
The last thing I heard was the distinctive roar of another engine, ringing in the silence.
Darkness began to creep into the corners of my vision.
Chapter 21 – Kat
The rain was cold, a violent force against the windows, a relentless drumbeat that seemed to mirror the storm inside me. I was in the living room, staring at the flashing lights of an ambulance in the distance, a sound swallowed by the wind. My mind was a battlefield, rimmed with the conflicting truth from last night and the vid, hard documents I had sighed just this morning. I had given Danil a part of my soul, a piece of trust I had no right to give. Now, I was a player in his dangerous game, and I had no idea what my next move was supposed to be.
The quiet click of the front door opening was barely audible over the howl of the wind. I didn’t look up at first, thinking it was a staff member. But the sign of heavy, uneven footsteps made me turn.
The sight of him was a physical blow. He stood in the archway, soaked to the bone, water dripping from his hair and clothes, forming a puddle on the polished wood floor. His face was pale, drawn, his usual aura of cold control shattered. But it was the dark, rapidly spreading stain on his side that stole my breath. It was a stark, angry red that stood out against the black fabric of his shirt.
He wasn’t a god, a monster, a king. He was just a man. A man who was hurt. My mind went completely blank. The questions, the anger, the confusion—it all vanished, replaced by a single, desperate thought:He’s bleeding.
“Danil?” I whispered, my voice barely a thread of sound.
He looked at me, his eyes dark, weary, but still burning with that familiar intensity. “It’s just the rain, Katria,” he said, his voice raspy. He took a single, unsteady step into the room, his hand instinctively going to his side. The movement was a little slow, a little too strained. He was more than just wet. He was injured.
The sound of his labor breathing was the only thing I could hear over the storm.
I stared at him, the red stain on his shirt a stark, terrifying reality. My mind, so good at spinning defenses and planning escapes, was now a blank canvas. I took a step forward, a single, deliberate movement.
“Don’t,” he said, holding up a hand. “I’m fine.”
The words, so casually spoken, were a lie. His face was pale, his lips thin and tight. He was anything but fine.
“You’re bleeding, Danil,” I said, my voice a shaky whisper. “What happened?”
He sighed, a tired, heavy sound that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. “A small misunderstanding. A car accident.”
I scoffed. “A car accident doesn’t put a bullet hole in your side.” My eyes found the dark stain again, growing wider with every passing second. “What happened? Who did this?”
He leaned against the doorframe, his posture rigid, but I could see the strain in his body, the way he was fighting to maintain control. “It was an ambush. On the way to work. They rammed the car. A bullet grazed me. Nothing more.”
Nothing more? The casualness of his voice chilled me to the bone. To him, this was a minor inconvenience, a typical Tuesday morning. To me, it was a waking nightmare. The danger I had only read about, the violence I had only imagined, was now standing right in front of me, bleeding.
“Nothing more?” I repeated, my voice rising in disbelief. “You were shot, Danil! Who did this? Was it…was it Feliks?”
He looked at me, briefly trying to smile. It wasn’t a smile of amusement, but of grim, exhausted irony. “I wish it were that simple, Katria. I have many enemies to keep track of. Many people would want to see me dead. This is just…a cost of doing business.”
His words hit me like a physical blow. The two halves of his life, the man who had held me so tenderly last night, the man who had confessed his own pain, and this ruthless, pragmatic leader who spoke of assassination attempts asa cost of doing business,were suddenly standing face to face. And I was in the middle. The fear that had been a full thrum in my veins now erupted into full-blown panic. I had signed the papers. I had given him my trust. I was part of this now. And this…this was what that meant.
He just stood there, his words hanging in the air like a cold threat.A cost of doing business.The man I had just signed my life over to saw being shot as an inconvenience. My mind, which had just begun to wrap itself around the concept of our fragile trust, recoiled. But my body didn’t.
My panic, so fierce just a moment ago, had now given way to a cold, determined calm. I took a step forward, then another, until it was standing right in front of him. He flinched, a subtle tightening of his jaw, but he didn’t move.
“You’re not fine, Danil,” I said, my voice now steady. “You’re bleeding. And you’re getting my floor wet.” I reached for his hand, my fingers wrapping around his. His skin was cold, his grip weak. This was the first time I had ever felt his vulnerability. I pulled gently. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
