Page 32 of Silent Ties (Ruling Love #1)

Russet

T he first surprise is a girl in the corner. She slides against the wall, head in her hands, shaking like a leaf.

“Get out or get the keys,” I say over my shoulder. The bar is two stories. The second opens up into the main room, meaning I’m a sitting duck for any attack over the railings.

I don’t waste time on the girl. Either she’ll try to unlock the doors and get some of the girls out or at least try to save herself. I don’t have high hopes for her in general.

Guards stream toward me, fanning out along the metal railings as I march up the stairs.

They don’t know what to do with me. They’re expecting me to take a bullet in the head at any moment. Instead I keep walking toward them, my aim on target. A man falls over the banister and then just like I knew she would. . . Here. Comes. Gloria.

“You little conniving shit.”

Honestly, I’m surprised she doesn’t have a rocket launcher. The fury on her face implies she’d love to deploy one. Taking out Marissa’s bar isn’t her intent, though .

It’s to take me out.

She fires off a round of bullets. I dodge, fire back, and realize the key to survival is knowing you aren’t.

It’s how you become fearless.

The trigger jams and when I lower it, I see it doesn’t matter. Gloria’s eyes remain open, unseeing as blood trickles down her temple.

I step around her, throw the useless gun away, and pull out my second weapon. Spanish and English mix together. Smoke irritates my eyes but I never blink.

I’m aware of everything while not feeling a single thing.

The music dies down the farther I get from the main bar. This is the spot for VIPs, where they can look down at the playing bands or eye fuck the women when Marissa has them perform.

I enter a hallway and eye my options. Right toward Marissa’s office, where they’re mounting a response.

Or left where Marissa’s most special guests are kept in the same room.

I head toward it.

Locked, of course. The steel door jams against my shoulder.

“Daisy!” No reply comes from inside. Marissa’s bar is a hive of gunfire smoke and chaos. Standing outside the door, the air is dull. Stale. As if I didn’t already know something bad had happened here.

“Daisy, can you open the door?” There’s no point trying to knock it down myself.

A bang makes me stop. It’s not coming from behind Daisy’s door, though.

“Back up!” I shout. Ten seconds later I shoot a door handle off. Wide, black eyes peek out. “Who can open that door?” I point at the room I want.

The girl shakes her head .

“Only Marissa right?” I ask. She nods. “You by yourself in there?”

She opens the door wider, nodding again.

“Gloria keeps a key for the doors downstairs.” She loves keeping the girls she pimps out locked up. “Either use it to help the others or stay here.”

The scrawny girl lingers in the doorway. I don’t have time to help her ponder her life choices.

I silently count the bullets I have left. Do I really want to head toward Marissa’s innermost den? It’s guarded to the teeth and they know I’m coming.

There is no going back.

Well, there’s a little going back. I retrace my steps coming out by the railing when a bullet lodges into the wall beside me. My eyes follow the trajectory and I step toward the banister.

Look who managed to sort of pull himself together.

I never thought it possible Hardin Davison could be productive. Turns out he just needed his balls shot off for him to learn how to think straight.

Not that he isn’t a bleeding mess. I look down at him, where he’s scooted across the floor, a trail of blood pooling around him. He lifts a gun, aiming right at me from where he sits on the ground floor.

I remain where I am, standing over the banister. Deep down I know how likely the possibility is that he’ll take me out.

But no man will ever see me flinch again.

His finger moves.

Blood splatters on the floor, his body thumping to the side with a dull thud.

Max, gun still pointed at Davison, stares straight at me.

Good timing.

I push away from the railing, a tad bit more confident now that the Russians are here.

It was only a matter of time, but I didn’t know what mess they would find.

“Russet.” Max runs up the stairs, guards spilling around him. Dima and Elijah creep behind, slow and steady. I’m touched—even Roma’s here.

Fingers catch my shoulder, digging into flesh I thought I couldn’t feel.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

Max doesn’t yell. It’s harsh darkness in his voice, though, and painfully tight shoulders. His usual apathetic bored mask crumbles, and fury lights his smoldering eyes.

I jerk away, turning my back to him.

I’d walk away too, but I don’t need to.

Marissa stands, gun in hand, ready to shoot me.

“Can’t control your wife, can you, Zimin.”

“Put your fucking gun down.” Max’s voice alone would kill any other opponent.

Marissa stands proud, but the fury whirling on her face is new. This isn’t the snarky, street smart bitch who took over her husband’s operations. Savage hate propels her forward, as she takes a step.

“I believe my son asked you to put your fucking gun down.”

The room shifts again.

I’m a quiet storm, breaking and taking everyone by surprise. Marissa is the terror in the night, the life of drugs and sex every parent warns their kid away from.

Lev Zimin is something else entirely. The ripple of power is subtle. Building until the quaking throws you to your knees.

Even Max on his silent days is nothing like this mountain of a man. He towers above us, taller than any six-foot man. His shoulders are square yet not an ounce of tension tightens his muscles.

He approaches with soft footsteps, his black suit jacket tailored to his body. Marissa might think he stands right beside me, but Lev angles his body, subtly pushing me back.

“Put down the gun, Marissa.”

It remains trained on me.

Casually, he places his hands in his pockets, smirking. “I’m standing in front of you yet you’re more intent on putting a bullet in my daughter’s head. Play smarter and maybe you’ll get somewhere someday.”

“I have plenty of bullets,” Marissa spits out. “One for her. One for you.”

“Dima,” Lev calls over his shoulder. “How many bullets do you have?”

“I’d hate to give away the element of surprise but it’s safe to say enough bullets to shoot her dead the moment she goes for the trigger.”

“Oh, Dmitri, how I fucking loathe you!”

“It’s pretty fucking mutual.”

Max creeps closer to me.

“I’ll get him too,” Marissa says, her words growing tighter.

“You really that upset I took out Davison?” Of course now my husband begins to understand sarcasm. “I did you a fucking favor.”

“I’ll do you all a fucking favor,” Marissa shouts. “You fucking piece of shits, all of you!”

Lev raises his hand. “Why don’t we all calm down.”

“Go to hell, Zimin. You in your fucking suit and tie acting like a god damn god. You want a fucking war? Is that what this is? Sending in my own girl to take me out.”

“I’m not your girl.”

“Fuck off, Russet Smith, with your piece of shit superiority complex. You’re a god damn cumbucket for these Russian assholes, you little slut.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Max growls .

I step forward, silencing everyone. “No more wars, Marissa.”

The gun holds steady, her aim true.

I have a death wish, though, because I take another step forward despite the weight of Lev and Max’s gazes on me.

“Give me the key,” I demand.

Fury burns in her eyes, her brow wrinkling. “She fucking deserved it.”

“And so will you,” I whisper, knowing deep in my soul she’ll get what she deserves. I’ll make sure of it.

A puff of laughter leaves her chest. My whole body lights with knowledge, I’m so aware of the tiny movement of her finger reaching for the trigger.

But before I can release a breath or before Lev can pull me to his side something else happens. Before Max can snatch me back and take the bullet for himself and before Dmitri can fire a round or Elijah or Roma. Before any of the guards can act, or Gloria’s remaining foot soldiers clock it. . .

Another bullet rips through the air, tearing through Marissa’s head, her eyes widening before she falls to the ground.

The Ghost’s arm remains outstretched.

He wears a mask, almost eerie in the dark except for the neon purple illustrating his face. It’s the only color. Everything else, from the gloves to the boots he wears, is black.

Standing tall, he’s not intimidated to be in the middle of the bratva’s finest.

Marissa’s soldiers run.

I want to ask him why he’s letting them go. But the silence is too tense to cut through.

“Perhaps now is the time to put the gun down,” Lev suggests.

The Ghost’s arm remains outstretched, the gun dragging through the air until it’s aimed directly at him .

“Think very carefully,” Lev says.

I don’t need to see the Ghost’s facial expressions to know that’s exactly what he’s doing. Everything about his being is darkly intense.

Slowly, he holds up his other hand, stopping when guards tense.

Lev remains standing, but not with the same ease as he had with Marissa. This is a man weighing an opponent, analyzing strengths and weaknesses. A thoughtful expression clouds his face.

Both of the Ghost’s hands are now outstretched. One with the gun pointed at Lev and the other. . .

He bends his fingers, motioning for someone to come forward.

A girl on shaky legs passes by. Another comes from the same direction, down the hall. They pass behind him, down the stairs, running for the front doors.

Lev rocks back on his heels.

The interaction is quick. The girls get out and then walking backward, the Ghost disappears the way he came. From some mystery exit.

But first, he nods toward Marissa’s dead body and I understand the hint.

I kick the body so hard it heaves over. Hair flops around, but her neck is visible and so is the silver key around it. Yanking it from her, I stand and turn.

Lev blocks me. “I think there’s some explaining to do.”

I brush past him not giving a damn.

“Russet.” Max is at my back. He tries to grab my elbow but I invade him.

The steel door looms in front of me but this time I have the key.

“What are you doing?”

For a second I think the key won’t work, but Max grabs it .

“What the fuck is going on?” he asks, so only I can hear. I’m sure people hover behind us, but I don’t care. The background is nothing, the steel door is the only thing I currently see. Not Max’s dark, angry eyes or his tight shoulders. Not Lev or Dima.

Max has better luck with the lock, the door groaning.

“Hold on,” Dima barks, wanting to clear the entrance himself.

There’s no time.

I push past Max and come to a stop one step inside.

I opened the door, but maybe it should’ve stayed shut.

“Holy fuck.” I don’t know if it’s Dima or Lev’s voice. Everything sounds underwater.

“Russ.” Max holds me upright.

“Why is there so much blood?”

Dimly, I’m aware that from that moment forward someone else takes control of the scene.

“Max.” I fight the arm snaking around my waist.

He’s pulling me out of the room.

“Why is there so much blood?”

Voices collide together.

I think people ask each other what the fuck this is. Some of the details are clear enough. The giant bed, the sex toys. But what’s unusual is the pregnant woman on the ground.

And the ungodly amount of blood stained throughout the room.

“Daisy.” I try to get out of Max’s grip. I’ll bruise, the way he holds me so tight.

Dima’s pointing at people, guards snapping to.

“No, you have to help her,” I cry. My eyes burn, tears irritating my skin. I fight harder, beating against Max, trying to get to Daisy. Trying to get away from the drumming vibrations in my chest.

Tell me I didn’t survive this all for nothing .

“The baby!” I shout.

Voices grow. The scene is taken over by guards surveying the damage. Roma’s sad eyes burn into me more than Max’s furious ones. Even Elijah, unfeeling as he is, stands pale next to his uncle, hands in his pockets as he stares at the blood.

“Somebody help her!”

“Shut up, Russet,” Max orders.

I struggle against his hold, not caring if he topples down the stairs.

“Max.” His father’s voice cuts through the air. It’s the only thing that makes me stop. “Take her home.”