Page 75 of Twisted Fate

I stare at him, dizzy with shock, unable to process everything happening all around me.

I should feel something other than relief and a strange sense of vindication…

shouldn’t I? But all I can think, as I stare at the man’s sightless eyes and limp body, is that he was going to force me.

He knew I didn’t want it, and he was going to enjoy fucking me anyway. He was going to enjoy hurting me.

I’m glad he’s dead.

A string of curses from the other side of the room makes me wrench around again, and I see Sean being shoved to his knees by three of the men in fatigues. I stare in horror as one of them puts a gun to the back of his head and pulls the trigger.

My blood turns to ice as I watch him drop to the concrete, blood pooling around him.

The cold violence of it makes my stomach roil, and I nearly vomit, my throat tightening as I start to shove myself up to my feet.

Men are still shooting, there’s blood everywhere—and I’m in the middle of it, backing away as I look for an escape.

There isn’t one, nothing other than the door I entered through, and suddenly my feet feel as if they’re able to move again, as cold terror ripples through me.

I run. Blindly. I bolt for the door, ducking, keeping to one side of the room, my ears ringing from all of the gunshots. I’m nearly there…and then a man is filling the doorway, standing in front of me, blocking my path.

He reaches for me as I try to shove past him, his arm wrapping around my waist much like Sean’s did earlier, and my chest tightens, panic overwhelming me.

I didn’t like Sean, he was an asshole—but now he’s dead.

Killed in cold blood…I start to swing my arms wildly, clawing at the man holding me, a man I’ve…

A man I’ve seen before.

There’s a brief moment of clarity, as I look up at him. Blond hair, broad shoulders, tattoos climbing up his neck, dark blue eyes?—

It’s the man that I saw with Konstantin. The quiet, brooding, dangerous man. The one that Carmen claimed fucked her like a beast.

That memory is enough to make me go wild with fear again, clawing and kicking as the man grabs the back of my neck, shaking me hard enough to make my teeth clack together.

“Stop!” He shakes me again. “Stop fighting. I’m trying to help you.

” He keeps me close to his side as he looks around the room, and I realize there’s a gun in his other hand, blood spattered over his arms and clothes.

I follow his gaze, breathing hard, and I see that everyone who was in the room with me is dead, all except the black-garbed men who burst in.

The crew, the five men who were getting paid to fuck me, Sean… everyone.

I have a momentary flicker of sorrow for the crew. They probably didn’t know they’d been hired for a job where the star of the show didn’t want to be there. But the rest of them…

Maybe I should feel bad that they’re dead. But I don’t.

“Come with me,” the man says urgently. “Stay close. If I let you go, are you going to?—”

I twist in his grasp, hoping it’s loosened, and he lets out a frustrated growl.

“I’m trying to protect you, girl!” He shakes me again, pulling me with him as he backs out of the doorway, turning abruptly around as he raises his gun, scanning the hallway. “Come with me. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Who are—” I break off, my voice ending in a high-pitched sound of horror as I almost trip over a slender body in the hallway. Bright pink top, dusty blonde ponytail…it’s the other girl who came here with me, the one whose name I didn’t know. Another flare of guilt washes over me…I didn’t even ask.

The man is already dragging me down the hall with him. “Damian,” he says curtly, his voice sharp and abrupt, thickly accented. He’s Russian, I can tell that much, which makes sense, if he works with Konstantin for the Bratva. “Damian Kutnezsov. Is that good enough for you?”

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I can’t think, can’t form words. I’ve never felt fear like this before—I thought I had, just a little bit ago, when I saw those five men, but I was wrong.

This , this is real fear. I’ve never before thought that I might die at any moment, but now I know what it feels like. Now…

The crack of Damian’s gun makes me jolt backwards, against his grasp as my ears ring, my nose burning with the scent of hot metal and blood.

I hear a body hit the floor, and Damian drags me forward, shoving me against a wall as he blocks me with his broad, muscled body, looking around a corner.

I see him aim, fire, hear that thud of a body dropping again, and then we’re moving, Damian dragging me forward?—

I see the propped-open door of the warehouse. I see the dark outside, the rain still puddling at the opening, in that sickly glow of light. And then, I feel a whoosh of air next to my head, and the ping of a bullet hitting metal as…

Damian swears in Russian, swinging me behind him as he aims, and I see one of the men who brought me here, one of those two men wearing jackets, aiming at both of us.

There’s the sound of Damian firing again, and the other man drops.

His blood gleams in the light, and I feel that nausea rising up again.

“Run!” Damian snaps, grabbing my elbow as he bolts for the door. He hauls me after him, but I’m running now too, trying to keep pace with his long strides as we rush out into the rainy darkness.

It’s warm rain, but it feels cold against my hot skin, pelting us in sheets as Damian runs through the parking lot with me. My ankle rolls, twisting in my high heel, and I feel myself toppling, about to fall to the gravel as pain shoots up my leg.

Before I can hit the ground, I feel strong arms go around me, and suddenly Damian is carrying me, holding me against his chest with one hand as he runs.

He twists around, firing once more, and I have a second to wonder how he knew someone was there before we reach a black Mercedes G-Wagon, and Damian yanks open the passenger’s side, shoving me in.

“Don’t you dare try to get out,” he growls, slamming the door shut in my face, and I see him sprint around the front of the car, leaping into the driver’s side as he shoves the key into the ignition.

The car growls to life. I stare at Damian, shaking all over, my teeth chattering together from fear and shock. “What’s going on?” I gasp. “What’s happening? Why?—”

“Don’t ask questions,” he snaps. His foot presses down onto the gas, and the car lurches forward, gravel spitting.

“But I—I don’t understand—” I can feel my shaking intensifying. I feel like I might pass out, or scream, or—I don’t know. All I know is that an hour ago, my life was one thing, and now it feels like something else altogether.

“You’re in danger.” Damian jerks the wheel to one side, pulling out onto the road. “Your life is in danger.” He looks over at me. “Do you understand?”

“No, I?—”

“Stop talking. Stop asking questions.” He grips the steering wheel with both hands, and the car speeds up, driving us faster into the darkness of the rain-drenched night.