Page 4 of Deadly Knight (The Bratva’s Elite #2)

If there’s one piece of training I’ve taken to living by, it’s to always trust instinct. The body’s natural responses will go into fight, flight, or freeze, depending which the situation calls for.

Right now, I’m stuck firmly in fight.

Or maybe flight, only so I can get Katya away.

It’s stupid to be feeling it now of all times, considering the party around us and the huge bonfire in the centre of the clearing lighting up even the darkest parts of the treeline.

The rambunctious bustle of shouts, cheers, and whoops from our fellow graduates should make me feel everything opposite of wanting to run, and I should be right there with them, in a drunken stupor.

Even Katya is three drinks in and sipping her fourth as she giggles with the group of friends she’s surrounded us with.

I’m pleased she’s having fun and letting go.

She does so infrequently, preferring to remain indoors rather than attend the numerous house parties classmates have thrown over the years.

However, the feeling of something evil permeates the air until I’m all but choking on it.

It’s the same sensation that’s been lingering since spotting Papa talking with Katya earlier.

She waved the situation off, but my instincts suggest otherwise, that there was more happening than either will admit.

Alarms in my head demand I take Katya home, where she’ll be safe.

If only Papa was at the mansion when I popped by earlier.

While Katya was having a celebratory dinner with her parents, I went home to confront him about his appearance this morning, but he was conveniently wrapped up in meetings downtown and refused to be bothered.

He avoided me, which makes the twisting in my gut even more painful.

Katya nudges my hand, the one holding a beer bottle that’s full minus the one sip I’ve drunk. “Of the two of us, it’s unusual you’re the one stressed.”

I’m stressed because I need to keep you safe, and I don’t like this feeling. I can’t tell her that. She’d think I’m crazy.

“I’ll relax once the deal is over.”

Her smile falters slightly, but she accepts my answer, which isn’t a complete lie.

Four years ago, when Papa scoffed and refused me attending public school, Ursin agreed.

He saw me as an easy in to an entire other customer base he otherwise struggled to reach.

Drug use is rampant in schools and, being a fellow student, it’d be easier to get business within the building.

Gain their trust—and money—when they’re young, and those remaining in Moscow after today will continue to seek Bratva product.

Ursin was thrilled at the idea of having an inside man whom students would trust and have quick access to.

Being that tonight’s a party, there’s already been a couple drop-offs, mainly at the start of the night, that went off without a hitch. A quick exchange of money for the product, and Katya and I were quickly on our way. The buyers were all classmates and didn’t linger for long.

There’s one more drop-off scheduled in another fifteen minutes by the edge of the forest. It’s one Papa set up when local club members wanted to buy. Agreeing to the drop made his bitching over me attending this party a bit better, since it’d save one of our other runners from coming down here.

It’s about a five-minute walk from here to the meeting place, so I hand Katya my beer to hold and stare meaningfully at her, letting my look say more than my words, given our audience. “I’ll be back in a few. Stay here.”

Last thing I need is her at an exchange with strangers, during a time when the nearest people are too drunk or stoned to hear themselves think, let alone be helpful.

“Oh, okay.” She glances behind me into the forest, understanding my true meaning. “Hurry back.”

Taking her words to heart, I jog a few feet away before immersing myself into the treeline. My destination is on the other side of the forest where no one will see or overhear us.

Quiet steps rush behind me, the crinkled grass and sticks cracking beneath the person’s weight.

I’m already turning, anger sizzling when she catches up, slipping her hand into mine and using the momentum to swing to a stop in front of me.

Her free hand catches the back of my neck, and she tugs me into a heated kiss I’d otherwise love to continue and hate pulling away from.

“I told you to stay.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Since when has telling me gotten you anything you’ve wanted?

Besides, not like I haven’t watched you deal before.

And since we’re out here…” She bites her lip, her eyes jumping around the darkness with her suggestion.

The hand holding onto my neck slides around to my front, tracing my chest until stopping at the waistband of my jeans.

“Figured we could celebrate on our own.”

She’s so damn sexy and playful, it pains me to order her back to the party. But my stance remains. It’s not safe for her, because I don’t know who I’ll be meeting.

“Katya, please?—”

Crack.

It’s a noise similar to the ones heard when she ran after me no less than a moment ago. But also much louder. Heavier.

Someone’s here. It better be the someone I’m meeting up with, despite this not being the agreed-upon location.

Still, my heart thumps faster. Instinct has me moving Katya behind me, my hand on her waist as I scan the darkness, searching for whoever made the noise.

I want to tell her to go back to the party while also wanting to keep her by my side, because at least here, I’ll be able to defend her.

“Dimitri—”

“Shh.” I hate being short with her, but it’s not the time for conversation.

My gaze completes another sweep. And then another, spotting nothing among the shadows. It must have been an animal, so with a final squeeze of her hip, I release her.

“Please, Katya. Return to the party. I’ll be there soon. Careful where you step.” Thankfully, the glow of the bonfire behind us lights up much of her path, so the closer she gets, the easier it’ll be for her to see.

She rolls her eyes but grins regardless. “You’re so damn protective. Good thing I love you.”

Crack.

“Well, ain’t that sweet.”

By the time I have Katya in my grip again, knife from my waistband in my other hand, we’re swarmed by four bodies walling us in. Katya gasps, pressing close to me, and I jab the knife in the direction of the one closest to us.

“Stay the fuck back.”

The figure reaches up and pulls his hood down, revealing a bald head tattooed to look otherwise. His menacing eyes lock on Katya, and I grip her tighter, mind racing to figure out how to get us both away from four grown men. How to fight while also protecting her.

“This isn’t the meeting place,” I say, hoping it’ll get them to back down—if this is the same group I’m supposed to be meeting.

The bald guy tsks, lips pressing together mockingly. “It’s not where you thought we’d be meeting, no, but it gets the job done.”

As quick as he bobs his head towards the others, I move to bend around Katya, only to instead feel a sharp prick in my neck. Instantly, a daze rolls over my vision and, though I grip my girl, she’s ripped from my hands with a screech.

Darkness overtakes me, and I fall to a sound that’ll be soon echoed in my nightmares.

Katya’s scream.

In a similar fashion to how I passed out, my vision slowly returns. The blackness fades into colour—although colour might be a bit of a stretch.

Grey is the first thing I see. Grey cement walls, grey cement floor.

So much grey, which means we’re likely in a warehouse of some sort.

The Bratva owns many of them for the bloodier sides of business, so I’m no stranger to the work that gets done within them.

While I’ve yet to have to participate in the torture of a captive, I’ve been forced to witness it on more than one occasion.

Unlike when I passed out, it’s not to the sound of Katya’s screams but to a muffled sob, broken only by relief as the blurriness over my eyes evaporates completely and I make out what’s in front of me.

The nightmare in front of me.

Katya. Naked. The only thing still on her is that ribbon.

Spread out on a dirty, ripped mattress on the ground, her arms and legs bound by rope, forcing her open.

Her eyes are wide with fear, black ink smudged down her cheeks from where tears mixed with her makeup.

Her hair is messier than earlier, tangled from the fight she likely put up.

Her body quivers, matched by the helpless whimpers as she watches me survey her.

A dirty rag is shoved into her mouth and tied behind her head, forcing her silence.

Silent and helpless.

A motherfucking nightmare shredded from my head and brought to life.

A growl rips from me. A noise I never thought myself capable of making. It’s a warning to the assholes who thought to do this. Who thought touching her was a good idea. Like it hasn’t just signed their death warrants.

Like her, my arms and legs are bound to a chair, but unlike her, I’m left clothed and my mouth unbound. It takes a mere horrifying second to piece together this is purposeful. The entire position of me tied up, forced to face my girl—and whatever they have planned.

It’ll be okay. That’s what I want to tell her, but the lie—I pray it’s not a lie—is caught in my throat. Clogged by fear and anxiety to the point there are no words good enough to ease her.

“Whoever the fuck you are, you’ve made a grave fucking mistake,” I call out, forcing my eyes away from Katya and towards the corners of the room. “Whatever it is you want, you’ll have it. Ten times over if you let us go.” And then, I’ll reap their lives for thinking they’d get away with this.

A door from across the warehouse opens, and four men filter inside. This time, no one has hoods up, and I commit every fucker to memory, eyeing my next four kills.

The first guy, the leader, I presume, is the bald one from earlier. He grins as he looks from me to Katya, his gaze lingering on her naked body. I vow to rip his eyes from his sockets first, and then chop off his hands.

The second has his hair tied in a bun. He seems bored, his thin frame slinking behind his leader until he stops beside the bed, staring down at my girl, a hunger igniting in his disgusting expression.

He licks his lips like she’s a meal and even chortles to the others when Katya turns her head towards me, eyes widening all over again.

The third will likely be the most difficult to fight when I get free. His bodybuilder frame lumbers forward, attention solely on Katya. He drops to a knee beside the mattress and reaches for her, sliding a hand up her lower leg and stopping by her knee.

Katya kicks out with the inch of leeway the ropes give her and makes muffled noises behind the cloth in her mouth, which only causes him to laugh.

“She’s a feisty one, boss.”

“Get your fucking hands off her!” I tense my arms, testing the strength of the rope, but it holds firm. From what I can tell, they’ve looped it around a few times, which means I’m not meant to move whatsoever.

The bald one waves his hand at the large one, who makes a disappointed noise before standing again, crossing his arms over his chest.

The fourth and final man has black hair so long and greasy, it’s hard to see exactly where he’s looking.

His baggy clothes hang loose on his frame, but he grips a knife in his hand, which I recognize as mine.

He stands over Katya and tosses it into the air, catching it by the hilt.

He does this three times, my stomach lurching every time.

One missed catch, and it’ll cut into her below.

Based on his sly grin as he rubs a hand through his long hair and glances my way, he knows it too.

“What do you want?” I stare at the man the other referred to as “boss.” The others are mindless drones following orders and will be useless in negotiations. “This about the deal? Take the drugs for free.”

He chuckles and reaches into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a baggy of pills that were previously in mine. “You mean these? Nabbed them from your pocket. We’re considering it a tip for a job well done, especially after the girl managed to land a solid punch on one of my guys.”

At least she didn’t give up, even when I was down, and for that, a bit of pride slithers between my terror.

“What’s all this then?” I jerk my chin at Katya, forcing my expression to downplay the fear actually coursing through me. The fear that she’s the point rather than a bargaining tool to force my hand.

The bald one grins again, turning for the mattress. Silently, he crouches by Katya with his back to me, and I picture stealing my blade back to stab it through his spleen. He reaches for Katya’s chin, forcing her to face him even when she jerks away, her frazzled eyes finding me.

“Shh, shh,” he hushes like she’s an injured animal. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t touch her.”

He sneaks a sly grin over his shoulder before murmuring to her, “Seems your boyfriend doesn’t like what he’s seeing. But we’re going to be amping up the show real soon.”

Her expression falters at the exact second his statement lodges into my heart, my soul, and I go mindless trying to get free. Every attempt is useless and only drains me of energy, but it’s fucking worth it. Anything I can try will be worth it.

He stands, facing me. “There is nothing I want. This is simply a job we were paid to do, Volkov.” His hand drops to his fly. “Let’s play, boys.”