Page 94 of Bratva Bride

Her lip curls. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“No,” I reply, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “I just think too little of you.”

Anya doesn’t answer this time. Her gaze flicks to the men behind her.

“Enough,” she snaps. “I’ve played long enough with my food. I’m bored now. Take the boy.”

“No—” I lunge, but they’re already crossing the room.

“Mommy!” Nikolai screams, his voice ragged, broken.

Something inside me shatters. It’s not thought, not instinct—it’s older than that, primal and all-consuming. I reach for the blade at my hip and slash upward, the edge catching the nearest man’s thigh. He roars in pain, rifle swinging wide. I duck under it, elbow another in the gut, but the third grabs me by the arm and hurls me into the wall. My shoulder cracks against rusted metal. Pain blooms, white and furious.

Still, I move.

I tear free, throwing my full weight against him. The knife sinks into his side. Blood gushes warm onto my fingers. He howls. I rip the blade free and swing it toward Anya, but she’s already backing up, untouched, smug.

Anya lunges at me, nails like claws. We grapple, teeth bared, breath short, my body screaming in pain, but I shove her off with everything I have.

“Mommy!” Nikolai’s voice is louder now. Terrified.

My shoulder screams, my legs burn, but I don’t stop. I grab Nikolai, hoist him into my arms.

And I run.

Boots thunder behind me as I scramble through the narrow passage, ducking wires, stepping over rusted beams, blood trailing from my arm. The deck is up ahead. I grit my teeth and scale the iron stairs two at a time, clutching Nikolai to my chest.

A gunshot cracks through the night.

Fire explodes in my thigh.

I scream, stumbling. Pain slices through me like a blade dragged through muscle. My leg buckles. I almost go down, stumbling, but catch myself at the last second. I can’t afford to fail tonight. I shift Nikolai higher in my arms and keep going, dragging my body forward with sheer will.

Blood pours down my leg, hot and sticky, pooling into my boot.

“Mommy—” Nikolai sobs, clutching my shirt, his face buried in my neck.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper through gritted teeth.

Behind us, shouts ring out, metal clangs under heavy boots. They’re gaining, closing in fast, but I don’t stop. Can’t stop.

The edge of the ship rises ahead, the deck sloping slightly, the shadows broken by the flicker of broken floodlights. I throw my weight forward, nearly crawling now, lungs heaving, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

Just a little more. Just a little farther.

I don’t let myself think about the wound. About the men behind us. About the way Nikolai is shaking in my arms.

I only think about moving forward.

Because if I stop now—we die.

28

KONSTANTIN

I grip the wheel harder,my fingers aching from how tightly I’m holding on. The engine growls under me as I push the pedal further, city lights blurring past in my periphery. My mind is spinning faster than the tires.

“Slow down,” Arman says from the passenger seat, one hand braced against the dash. “You’re going to get us killed.”