Page 82 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
Em reverses out of the parking garage and into the street.
But we’re surrounded.
Men in black Kevlar and dark face masks have the entire street blocked off.
“Shit,” Emmanuil growls. “It’s your brother’s rivals. How the hell did they find us?”
“No,” I say hurriedly, grabbing his arm as he reaches for his gun. “It’s my brother.”
Emmanuil pauses, doubt flashing across his face as I reach for the door handle. “No, they’ll shoot you,” he blurts out in fear.
“It’s Kristopher,” I reassure him, opening the car door and stepping out. Emmanuil climbs out, too, and instantly, men grab him and drag him to the floor, pinning him down.
“Stop,” I scream. “Kristopher, stop.”
My brother steps forward, pulling his mask off, anger in his eyes.
“He tried to have you killed, Anya, and you’re defending him?” he snarls.
“He didn’t try to have me killed. What are you talking about?” I squeal as his guards press a gun to the side of Emmanuil’s head. Images of what my father did flash through my memory, searing panic into my heart.
“I know about the attack yesterday, Anya,” Kris says.
“You’re wrong, though. Look at his side. I got shot at, yes, your rivals tried to kill me. But if it wasn’t for Emmanuil, I’d be dead. He took the bullet that was meant for me. He saved my life, Kris.” My voice is flooded with desperation as I plead for my brother to listen.
He tilts his chin towards his men, and they grab the edge of Emmanuil’s shirt, pulling it up to reveal the bandages.
“He took a bullet for you?” Kris snarls in disbelief.
“This is all my fault, Kris, all of this misunderstanding and confusion. I should have told you years ago, but I was afraid.”
I tell the story again.
What my father did.
How he tortured that man. His threats. The fear I felt. I tell Kristopher everything. My brother listens with his eyes dark and locked onto me.
“I let you believe that Emmanuil hurt me because it was easier than explaining what our father did,” I sigh, staring at him, waiting for him to say anything at all.
“I’ve hated him for years,” Kristopher mutters, his eyes drifting to Emmanuil, still pinned down.
My brother huffs and scrunches his face. He gestures to his men. “Let him up,” he says, tucking his gun into the holster over his shoulder.
He turns towards Emmanuil. “I maintained the rivalry between us because of what I believed you did. If that wasn’t what happened, then we have a few things we need to discuss.”
His words are clipped and professional. His face is void of expression.
“I’m ready to talk when you are,” Emmanuil says calmly, dusting the dirt from his pants. The way he moves, I can see he’s in pain.
“Can you guarantee my sister’s safety?” he demands.
“I can. I will protect her with my life.”
Kris nods, his mouth pulled tight.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be at your office at eleven. You and I can talk alone. Man to man.” He turns to face me. “Try and stay out of trouble until then, Anya?” he sighs in frustration.
“Thank you, Kris,” I say with relief, rushing forward to hug him. He hugs me back with just one arm, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he chuckles quietly. “But we’ll sort this out. I just need time to process what you’ve told me and look into a few things.”
