Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
I didn't know how many men were downstairs. I didn't know how quickly backup would get to me. My cousins had to secure their families before they could come help me. While my brothers should have still been on the compound, Marina was Kostya's priority, and I had no idea if Pavel was even here.
She gave me a loaded look that told me she had so many things to say and she was not happy. But she took a step back, her arms crossed over her chest as she sat on the wooden chair.
"Thank you," I said with relief as I closed the heavy iron door and tapped in the code to lock it.
Now that she was secure, I had business to attend to.
There were more pops of gunfire in the house, probably against the men that I had guarding it, and maybe even the first round of help from Gregor's men.
I sucked in a deep breath, pushing down my fear for Viktoria, my anxiety for what could happen, and the anger at myself for telling Gregor's men to kill Solovyov's men on the property, knowing they would track their phones.
Then I pushed down the white fiery rage at the intruders' audacity in attacking the Ivanov family in their own home.
Some men swore rage made them more effective. I said it made men stupid. If I let my rage overcome me, then I would focus on a single target while another came at me from the side. No, I didn't need fiery rage. I needed cold, still, calm.
With my heart beating steadily, I grabbed another gun from the bedroom and put another magazine of rounds in the pocket of my sweatpants. They'd be looking for me, and it wasn't going to take them long to make it to this room. I'd be damned if I was going to let them get that close to Viktoria.
I stalked out of the bedroom, not bothering to duck for cover before I needed it. They ruined any chance for stealth, so they knew I was coming.
Ready or not, here I come, fuckers.
I was halfway down the hall when a man in a black ski mask turned the corner and I placed a bullet between his eyes.
Two more followed, and I dropped them just as quickly.
There were shouts. Someone must have realized I was fighting back. The loud crack of my GSh-18 semi-automatic pistol was not the same hollow pop pop of the semi-automatic rifles they had chosen.
I knelt down next to one of the bodies and examined their weapon. A cheap rifle that could be bought at any American discount chain. Theirs would use almost an entire clip of spray and pray to take down a single person. My rounds would pierce their armor in a single shot if I ever bothered with a body shot.
Ripping the mask off, the assailant's appearance confirmed my suspicions.
The assailant was a boy, no older than twenty-three, with symbols of the local gang tattooed on his neck.
This was Solovyov's doing, but he wasn't using his own men.
He had hired these men as cannon fodder. He wasn't trying to kill us. There was no way these men were going to win, and he didn't mean for them to.
He was trying to distract us…fuck.
Shaking my head, I covered the man's face again. I felt bad for them. I really did. They had all signed their own death warrants, and for nothing. Solovyov wasn't the kind of man who even had the decency to make sure the people these men left behind got their pay.
My sympathies went out to them, but it changed nothing. They had broken into my home and put my woman in danger. They could not be allowed to live.
The shouts got closer. There were at least two men running this way, maybe more. I got up and pressed myself to the wall and waited. Letting them come to me was the easiest way. They were untrained and had cheap weapons, but I was still outnumbered.
"He has to be back this way. I heard he was seen with a new bitch, I want first when we run a train on that—"
He turned the corner and I put a bullet in his throat before he could finish his sentence.
It only took this one cocky shit for any sympathy I had for these men to die. He fell to the floor, his hands going to his throat to stop the spray of blood with every breath he failed to take.
Another man ran up behind him and completely froze. The untrained moron stopped and stared, watching like he didn't understand how his friend was shot.
Fuck, maybe I was doing the gene pool a favor. I shot that one in the chest, one bullet clean in the heart, an instant death, an honorable one. Not that he deserved it.