Page 81 of Scars He Gave Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 2)

I peek around the side of the crates and see the Russian bastard dragging her toward a back exit. Kostya is in the open, a rifle slung across his back and a .45 in each hand. He’s shooting like John Wayne and taking out more than his share of our adversaries. Petr is on the other side of the warehouse blasting his way through a group of Kuznetsov loyalists.

No way am I staying down, no matter how bad the agony is. I come out from behind the crates, firing at anyone who isn’t one of my men as I make my way through the warehouse.

“Call your men off, Leonid, and I’ll let you live.” I have him sighted and I never, ever miss. But I waver because I’m losing blood and his man has Corrie. “Think about it. You can go back to Russia and live out your days.”

“Fuck you, little boy. Why should I trust you when I can kill you for your disrespect?”

I grit, “You can try, but does it look like you’re winning?”

He snarls, “You are a man without honor. Not even to your own father. You let your friend kill him.” His words mean nothing. I don’t give a fuck what a semi-decrepit old man thinks or says.

But “let” is an interesting choice of word since his partner is the one who gave the order for Aleksey to betray my father. “And Bogan was your friend but you welcomed Aleksey into your little group of traitors. Where’syourhonor, old man?”

Our men are battling while we banter and bullets whizz past both of us. None of us have managed to stay uninjured. Leonid has a wound to his left shoulder, Totti is dragging his leg behind him, and I’m a walking wound. I only have one working hand, but I’m younger, faster, and better trained. Not to mention fueled by fury.

The Italian don runs behind some crates as Corrie bites her intruder’s hand and runs.

It all happens in slow motion from there. I want to scream at Corrie to hit the deck, hide, take cover. But I’m not fast enough. As I watch, Leonid turns, takes aim at her, fires.

She screams. A bullet catches her in the thigh, and she falls as I launch myself at Totti in a football tackle. I pound his face with my good hand as he grunts with each smash of my fist against his bones. Then I fire, and he goes down for good. The small hole in his forehead is puckered and smoking.

Just like that, Roberto Totti is dead.

Corinne drags herself behind a forklift. I lose sight of her. My vision is swimming and fading as I clamber off of Roberto. I’ve lost a lot of blood and it’s not slowing down.

By the time I get to my feet, I’m sweating, exhausted, and soaked in blood, but I have to get to her. I have to make sure she’s okay.

There are about fifty feet between me and the forklift. Bullets are still zinging and ricocheting. Footsteps fall, then halt, then fall some more.

Halfway to Corinne, I have to stop, take a breath, and it’s a mistake. There’s a glint of light hitting metal as a knife arcs toward me.

Leonid.

His face is drawn, looking worse than usual with the streaks of blood from where he’s wiped his face with the bad hand. But I’m too hurt to react in time; I take a knife stab to the shoulder. He stabs me a second time and my world begins to fade even faster to black.

Everything is narrowing.

Fading.

Turning into black sand as I slowly slip away…

I’m only going to have one shot. One chance to end this. He swings the knife again and I grab the hilt over his hand.

Push the arm past my bad shoulder and sink my teeth into his forearm.

Unlike Leonid, I have use of my dominant hand, so when he drops the knife, I catch it and flip the blade so the sharp edge is toward him and the dull side is held in place by my forearm. Then I slide the blade along his throat.

By the time I drop the knife because I’ve used the last bit of strength I have, Leonid has a second smile, inches below the first.

I push him off me, let him bleed out, gasping. Let him die like the pigs my father used to butcher.

I have to get to Corrie. I have to tell her I love her and I’m sorry and I never should’ve left. I can’t die without her knowing. I stagger to the forklift, too weak to stay low, too strong to crawl. I’ll die like a man, proud and strong.

I love you.The words are on the tip of my tongue. I’m so close.

But as soon as I touch her, as soon as I open my mouth… the darkness comes for me.

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