Page 28 of Forced & Pregnant Bratva Bride (Tarasov Bratva #13)

I moved as fast as I could, skirt and slippers tangling, forcing me toward Emmy’s room. I hid when I needed to, fired my gun when I had to—anything to keep me alive. At least until I found my little sister and made sure she was safe.

It was chaotic out here with lots of dead men lying on the floor. I’d never experienced such intense violence in my life before. Never.

Explosions here and there, the deafening blasts of gunshots filling the air and blending with smoke and the copper tang of death.

I moved quickly, dodging the bodies sprawled at my feet and the blood spilling beneath them.

So much death. So much chaos. All at once.

The mansion was a slaughterhouse with bullet holes in the walls and fear in the atmosphere.

I ran, chest burning—not from the sprint but from the choking reek of chaos.

I reached Emmy’s room, grabbed the door handle, and forced it open. “Emmy!” I barged inside, burying my nose in the sleeve of my shirt.

The room was filled with smoke, the curtains burning—flames crackling wildly.

“Emmy!” I coughed, swiping a hand in the air as if chasing the smoke away. “Emmy, where are you!”

“Leo!” she called back, her voice coming from the bathroom.

I rushed inside and found her curled up in a corner on the floor, legs pulled up in front of her. “Emmy, thank God!”

“Leo!” She raised her head, eyes wide with terror.

“I’m here,” I said, crouching in front of her, hands framing her face. I scanned her body, my heart hammering in my chest. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” My voice was dripping with urgency.

“I’m fine,” she answered, her tone barely above a whisper.

I pulled her into my arms, a momentary wind of relief blowing across my face. “Oh, thank God—thank God.”

Another explosion outside shook the building, and she screamed, tightening her grip around me.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.” The words burst out of me in a nervous rush.

“Leo, what’s happening?” she asked, her lips trembling, fear etched in her gaze.

Just as I was about to respond, I heard muffled voices inside the room speaking in Russian. Their footsteps were heavy on the floor, and their voices were thick and raucous. One of them was telling the others to kill anyone and anything they found in the room.

My jaw clenched, my heart pounding like a drum as I placed a finger over Emmy’s lips. “Shhh,” I whispered, tightening my grip on my gun.

I’d kill them all before I’d let them touch my sister.

My brows knitted together, my frown deepening as I replaced my fear with anger.

“Check the bathroom!” someone ordered in Russian.

I rose to my feet, securing Emmy behind me with my gun held up in front of me. I was ready to blast whoever was unfortunate enough to walk in through that door.

Shoot first, ask questions later. Egor’s style.

A brief moment of confusion had the men yelling about something, their voices thick and intimidating. It was like there was a newcomer in the room, and this newcomer wasn’t one of them.

Then came the shots—loud and precise. Three times.

Silence.

A single set of footsteps approached the bathroom door, slow, measured, and deliberate. I stood before Emmy, my aim unwavering, finger hovering near the trigger. I recognized the footsteps, but I needed to be sure.

Halt.

A knock on the door. “Emmy, are you in there?”

“Egor!” she called out from my back, her voice tinged with delight.

I lowered my gun, a sigh of relief escaping my lips. He barged inside, his eyes wide with something fragile. Emmy ran to hug him, and he lifted her in one smooth motion. “Are you okay?” he asked her.

She nodded and hid her face between his neck and his shoulder.

He walked over to me, his expression gentle with a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head, locking my jaw.

“Good.” He turned around. “Stay close. Stay sharp.”

Egor led the way with Emmy in his arms and his gun held up in front of him. I followed behind, senses on high alert.

We hadn’t gone halfway into the room when the front door burst open, and three guys stormed inside.

“Get down!” Egor yelled, glancing back at me as he tossed Emmy onto the nearest couch with practiced ease.

She screamed, landing safely on the cushion. I hurried over to pull her down, and we both hid under the table.

Egor was a demon in the fight against these men, two of whom were twice his size. Bullets sprayed like perfume, knocking down anything in their paths. Emmy lay on the floor, both hands covering her ears, even as I lay over her.

The men fought, exchanging kicks and punches, firing and dodging bullets at close range.

Egor was a skilled fighter. He was fast and tactical—his speed and agility giving him an edge over his opponents.

The fight was so intense that their loud grunts filled the air, accompanied by the sound of cracking bones and torn flesh.

I watched Egor blast a man’s brains out, staining the wall behind him with blood. He shot another in the leg, and before the man could finish yelling, a bullet to the head silenced him.

The third guy unsheathed a blade, and, in one single motion, he drove it into Egor’s side.

“Argh!” my husband groaned, his pain lacing his voice.

The assailant tackled Egor to the ground in a violent tangle. The world narrowed to the scrape of boots on marble and the sharp reek of blood.

My hand flew to my mouth, my heart lurching into my throat as I feared for my husband’s life.

Egor hit the floor hard, the breath punched out of him, but the knife was already arcing for his throat. His hands shot up, fingers locking around the man’s wrist, muscles straining as cold steel hovered inches from his jugular.

I couldn’t hide like a coward while Egor fought for his life.

No. I rose to my feet, snatched my pistol from the floor, and fired once—a precise shot to the back of the man’s head.

Blood splattered across Egor’s face as his attacker’s now limp body fell on him.

He pushed the man off him, his hand snapping to his side, blood spilling between his fingers.

“Oh, my God!” I rushed over and dropped to my knees beside him, both hands on his wound.

Shit. It was deeper than I thought. Much deeper, and he was losing a lot of blood.

Egor gripped my wrist with bruising strength and then leaned in, his voice weak but steady. “Go. Save yourself.”

I shook my head. “No.”

My hands flew into my hair, fingers deftly styling it into a bun on top of my head. “Emmy, stay down.” I glanced back at her, then faced Egor again. “Stay with me—we’ll get through this.”

“Boss!” Simon barged inside, two pistols held out in front of him, those sharp eyes scanning the room.

“Over here!” I called.

Simon rushed over to us with a few other men, all armed to the teeth, including Grigory.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” I said, glancing up at their faces.

Simon signaled two of his men to pick Egor up and attend to his wound. By now, he had already passed out.

“Are you okay?” Grigory asked me.

I swallowed hard and nodded. “What’s the status report?” I demanded, ignoring the surprise on their faces.

My husband was out like a light; someone had to step in and take charge of the situation.

Simon hesitated for a moment, his face grim, grip tightening around his pistols. “At least twelve of Aleksei’s men are down, and we’ve already cleared the east wing.”

Grigory chipped in, “We’ve got the upper hand, but they’re still coming in from the west entrance.”

I paused, my pulse steadying by the second. “And Aleksei?”

Simon answered, “He’s somewhere in the mansion. We don’t have eyes on him yet. But he’s here.”

I thought for a moment, and an idea lit up in my head like a light bulb. “Seal the building,” I ordered.

“What?” the question escaped Simon’s lips.

I continued regardless, “No one goes in or out. Post men at every exit. Lock them down.”

“Ma’am—” he tried to object.

“They don’t know this mansion like we do, Simon,” I cut him off, my voice steady and tinged with authority. “Everyone in here knows this place like the back of their hands. So, let’s use it against them. Trap them inside. Smoke them out if we have to.”

The men exchanged hidden glances, some of them already nodding in agreement to my plan.

“This is our house,” I said, “and the biggest mistake they made was to bring the fight to us. Let’s show those bastards what we’re made of.”

Simon’s brows arched, and even Grigory’s expression shifted—like they were looking at a different version of me they’d never met before.

“Aleksei came looking for trouble....” I glanced toward the corner where Egor had been carried moments ago. “…let’s give him some.”

A cocky smirk curled at the corners of Simon’s mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

I didn’t care who the fuck Aleksei was; he never should have attacked my family. Now, I wasn’t going to stop until he and the rest of his men were six feet under.

The hunter was now the hunted, but unfortunately for the hunted, there was nowhere else to hide. This entire mansion was designed like a maze, and I was determined to play the game of hide and seek with these spineless bastards.

Crazy how in the midst of all this chaos, I no longer felt fear. Only confidence and courage.

They were the prey. I was the predator, and I wouldn’t stop until I put an end to this madness.

Ready or not, here I come.