Page 139 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

He falls back and cracks his skull hard against the asphalt road, blood pooling at the back of his head. His eyes stare up at me, dazed.

I make sure to look him square in the eye when I shoot him in the face.

I spot another shooter behind a tree and take cover behind a silver Prius before I start shooting again. The tree gives him too much coverage, but he keeps shooting until he’s clean out of bullets.

As he stumbles to reload, I stand, aim, and shoot him in the thigh that’s just barely sticking out.

He hits the ground with a scream. I growl with satisfaction.

I’m about to call for Esme when I hear her scream.

“Artem, watch out!”

I whirl around—just in time to avoid a swinging fist from a man dressed like he’s attending the funeral.

I grab his arm before he can bring it down on me and twist it around. He tries to reach for his gun with the other hand, but I break his elbow and smash his face into the back of the Prius, leaving his blood smeared across the trunk.

Before I can catch my breath, I feel a grazing pain at my back. A shot—not a direct hit, but enough to draw a pained bellow from my lungs and send me to my knees.

Fuck.

There’s one too many.

And I’m a little too slow.

I pivot and try to stand. Ready to fight back, even as I know that the odds aren’t good.

But fuck this son of a bitch if he thinks I’m going to go down easy.

He’s got a dark bandana tied around his jaw so all I can see is laughing green eyes and thick eyebrows. The man lines up his gun, with me square in his sights.

This is it.

This is how it ends for me.

I’m too close to dodge, but too far to stop him.

I’m staring death in the barrel.

But before he can pull the trigger, there’s a blur from off to the side.

And Esme appears out of nowhere with a banshee scream.

She claws at the man’s face with her nails and angry red claw marks blaze across his cheek. The man roars in surprise and pain. I’m so overwhelmed with pride that I don’t act as fast as I normally would.

That is, until I see his eyes turn wild with rage as he turns his violent attention to my wife.

It’s all the opening I need.

Before he can touch her, I’ve fired five times, getting him twice in the stomach, twice in the heart, and once right between the eyes.

I hear Esme gasp. Her eyes go wide with horror at the recognition of what we’ve done to his dead, mangled face.

But we don’t have time to panic. I grab her and force her gaze away from him.

She’s breathing heavily, her eyes are panicked and anxious, and I can sense she’s close to falling apart.

“Look at me!” I roar. “Just focus on me. I’m right here. You’re with me.”

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