Page 159 of Immaculate Deception (Romanoff Bratva)

I watch, too far away to intervene, as Jorik spins around and fires off a shot at Gennady.

BANG.

And Gennady’s grip suddenly slackens. He collapses into a limp puddle on the floor.

I bellow and whirl around to grab my gun off the mantle.BANG.Brick explodes next to my face.

I dive sideways behind the sofa to avoid the bastard’s wild shots. The couch begins to erupt with geysers of fabric and foam. I pop up above the cushions for just a second to fire off a shot.

I only have a second to aim, but it’s enough.BOOM—contact. The Butcher cries out in pain.

I can’t even bring myself to look at Gennady yet. I’ll deal with him when the Albanian is dead.

“You’re such a fucking nuisance!” Jorik yells. “And a pussy. You’re here fighting for a kid and a woman you know nothing about. You think Arya is going to be a good mother? That bitch will ruin this child the way she ruins everything.”

I pop up again and fire off another shot. This time, I miss, but the Butcher jerks sideways to avoid the shot, falling on the floor.

I take the opportunity to hit him again. This time, my shot buries itself in his stomach.

He’s down. I don’t think he’s getting back up.

Still, he has a gun and nothing to lose. I don’t come out just yet.

I hear coughing. I’m not sure who it is: The Butcher or Gennady. I want to get to my right-hand man as soon as possible. I need to get him out of here and get him help.

My thoughts flash back to the night last winter when I was shot—just a graze—and I stumbled in on a sexy vet about to leave for the day.

Who would have ever thought it would turn out like this?

I stand up to survey the scene. The Butcher isn’t fighting anymore. His fingers are limp around his gun and torrents of blood are pouring out from the gaping wound in his toros. His face is going pale.

I move towards him, ready to end this. Ready to put a bullet in him and be done.

As I stand over him and lift my gun, he coughs and shakes his head. “You want the dots, Dima?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Connect… connect the dots…” he splutters.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re dying.”

His eyes widen with the reality of his situation. I don’t feel sorry for being the one to deliver the news. He would have happily delivered the same news to me.

“You don’t… don’t know the story, Romanoff…”

I roll my eyes. “Fuck you.”

I lift my gun again, and Jorik jerks with a cough. “Wait. Wait. It’s about Arya. I think you’ll want to know.”

I should pull the trigger, but goddamn it, I hesitate.

I fucking hesitate.

56

Arya

I feel the pain before I even know I’m conscious. A splitting ache that starts at my forehead and moves straight back to the crown of my head. Like my skull has been opened wide.

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