Screams fill the air.
Soon after, an influx of different languages mix and rise in volume until almost none of them are intelligible.
Women squeal as leaders bark orders at their guards. Guns rise high in the air, and the sound of outside gunshots gets everyone’s attention.
It takes a second for the rest of the Vory and me to realize who could be behind this.
The Irish.
Everyone is taking refuge, including the crime family leaders and their companions.
Kyle is dragging me toward where the priest has disappeared to. I twist my hand free from his, lift my dress, and run in the direction of Sergei and Anastasia. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving my family to die while I save my own neck.
Ruslan and Katia are by my side in a second, their expressions alert and their guns in hand.
I find Granduncle covering Anastasia while Igor, Mikhail, and Kirill surround them in a circle, their guns held taut in their arms. They at least have the loyalty to protect the boss.
Damien is running straight outside, pushing people out of his way and checking his gun’s magazine on the way. His men follow after him like a storm ready to erupt.
Adrian, on the other hand, is standing with the Italians. His gun, although drawn, is hanging limply by his side as if he knows he won’t get the chance to use it.
I’m about to yell at him for not coming to protect Sergei, but the view of blood stops me. Lazlo, the leader of the Lucianos and one of the most important heads of the Camorra, has been shot.
I don’t have time to focus on that as I grab Sergei by the shoulder. Anastasia gets to her feet as well, expression fearful and skin pale, but she’s not crying like she used to do when we were young.
“Come on,” I urge. “Let’s get you out of here, Ded.”
“Like fuck you’re taking him away,” Mikhail snarls in my face, looking ready to direct his weapon at me.
“The outside isn’t safe yet,” Igor says, agreeing. “We can’t get the boss out before Damien or Vladimir return.”
“I’m not taking him away.” I motion to where the priest went. “Old churches have hiding places.” I throw a glance behind me, thinking Kyle disappeared, but a deep part of me, an irrational one, holds on to the hope that he didn’t.
“They do.” His voice comes swift and calm from beside me as he checks his gun. “Follow me.”
Mikhail grunts but complies when our guards and we form a circle around Sergei, Anastasia, and Mikhail’s and Igor’s wives, each person facing a different angle as we move in unity toward the hideout.
Kyle attempts to push me inside, but I lift my dress, retrieve my gun from the holster attached to my thigh, and jut my chin at him. He shakes his head but quits trying to push me.
We take a few turns, following his lead, and then descend old, narrow stairs that only accommodate two people at a time. The commotion from outside slowly withers away as we go down slowly.
When we reach a secluded room in the basement, Sergei is panting. His face has paled, and I know it’s because he’s holding in his cough. If he has a fit and blood comes out in front of the others, it’ll be bad.
We find the priest praying silently in a corner. I help sit Sergei down in a chair beside him without making it so noticeable. Anastasia joins him, holding on to his arm like it’s a lifeline.
Mikhail’s wife is trembling noticeably. Igor’s wife, Stella, however, seems completely in control of the situation. She stands beside her and holds her hand, whispering what I assume are soothing words. Stella has always seemed like a tough cookie who, although she shouldn’t belong in the Bratva world, has managed to fully adapt to Igor’s lifestyle.
Her husband is talking to his guards in clipped Russian, but I catch the brief moments he steals glances at her, as if making sure she’s safe and sound. Stella nods discreetly at him, and even though no words are spoken, it’s like a whole chain of communication has just happened between them.
It’s admirable to witness their connection firsthand. Dedushka always said Igor was the luckiest in his generation, but now I fully understand what that means. Dedushka, Sergei, and many others lost their wives, whether to illness or assassination, but Igor protected his with his life.
The sound of gunshots echoes above us, getting closer by the second, as if coming from inside the church.
“Stay here,” Kyle says. “Kirill and I will go see what’s going on.”
They’re not one step toward the door when they notice me joining them. Aleksander remains by his boss’s side, expression alert.
Kyle stops in his tracks and faces me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going too.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. The bastards don’t get to shoot at my family at my own wedding and expect me to stay in hiding.”
“I will take care of it,” he mutters.
“It’ll be easier if I’m around.”
“Fuck, Rai.” He grabs my shoulder and whispers against my ear, “You’re in your damn wedding dress.”
I lift it up and tie it so it’s no longer skimming the floor. “I can run in a dress.”
“Rai…” The warning in his tone doesn’t escape me, but I keep holding eye contact, refusing to budge.
“If you’re done flirting…” Kirill rolls his eyes from under his glasses.
I step out first, and Ruslan and Katia stand on either side of me.
“Stay and protect Granduncle,” I tell both of them, not waiting for their reply.
They don’t like being left out of the action, especially when I’m in the midst of it, but their role beside Sergei is more important.
I take the route back to where we came from. Kyle and Kirill follow after, covering for me and each other.
By the time we reach the church, it’s empty, except for the Italians who are protecting their injured man.
Adrian isn’t where we left him.
Excessive gunshots are coming from outside. Considering the randomness of the shots, I can’t exactly pinpoint their source.
“Let’s separate.” Kirill lifts his glasses up his nose. “I’ll take the back. Kyle, the front. Rai, stay here.”
He and Aleksander leave before either of us can agree.
“I’ll take the front,” I tell Kyle. “You stay here.”
“Funny.”
“I’m not joking. You have better aim than me and would be able to take down any target from the inside.”
“No.”
“Then I’m coming with you.” I don’t wait for him to agree because I know he won’t. Keeping my back to the wall and away from the windows, I creep to the entrance.
Kyle, though? He breezes through the door in the midst of the raining bullets.
I have no clue if he’s that brave or has no value for his life—or both. My heart nearly jumps out as the gunshots continue and he throws himself right in the middle.
He finds some of Igor’s men, motions something at them, and jumps over the fence toward the parking lot. Where the hell is he going?
I shake my head as I click the bullets into the chamber of my gun and slowly slip out. A few stray gunshots echo around me, and I fire two of my own. Four to go.
Kyle is the one who taught me to count my bullets, especially when I have no ammunition left. He said there’s nothing more stupid than dying by your own mistake. It’s ironic how his words stayed with me, particularily during dire situations.
I sneak behind our men toward where Kyle headed, making sure Vlad doesn’t see me. If he does, he’ll forcefully grab me and send me back beside Sergei.
The gunshots continue going at a sporadic speed. I hide behind the walls, holding my breath every time I move from one surface to the next.
Cars, mostly German, fill the parking lot, but there’s no sign of Kyle. I use the vehicles as camouflage while I try to track down where he went.
He always does this thing where he fucking disappears into thin air until it’s almost impossible to find him. And then, when someone does find him, he’s already finished several people and comes back all covered in blood as if it’s a normal occurrence.
We might all be killers, but the difference between Kyle and me is that I only kill when I absolutely have to, mostly in self-defense or to protect my family. He’s the type of unfeeling psycho who does it as a pastime. Not only that, he also doesn’t take backup. A lone wolf through and through.
I lift my head over a BMW to study my surroundings, but I come face to face with the opening of a gun.
Fuck.
“Throw your gun behind you,” the man who holds the weapon says in an indecipherable accent, but I don’t have to guess at his origins. His Asian eyes and thick hair give him up as either Chinese or Japanese.
“I’m Rai Sokolov, Sergei Sokolov’s grandniece.”
“Gun on the ground or it will be your brains.”
Shit.
I slowly let go of my gun, making sure to throw it far enough and on its back so it doesn’t go off.
He motions at me with his weapon. “Put your hands behind your head and come out.”
I follow his instructions so I’m standing in the open in front of him. “Don’t you know who I am? You’re making a grave mistake.”
“Maybe you made it, Miss Sokolov.” The suave voice coming from my right takes me by surprise, especially since I recognize it well.
The man with the gun bows his head in respect—to his boss.
Kai Takeda.
He stands a few feet away from me, taller than his guard, but leaner and with the aura of an undercover assassin. He lost his jacket somewhere, since I recall him wearing it at the beginning of the ceremony, and is now only wearing a black shirt and pants. His eyes are Asian like his guard’s, but darker and more mysterious. His hair is thick, ink-colored, styled back, and falling to his nape. His face is also stronger than most of his countrymen, and he has a quiet beauty to him that fits his role.
Kai is the brains of the Yakuza here, and a very dangerous person at that. However, the fact remains, he’s one of our allies and a ruthless investor in V Corp.
I drop my hands to either side of me. “What are you doing, Kai?”
He pauses for a beat before he speaks quietly in a flawless American accent. “I should ask you that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I must admit, I hadn’t thought you capable of carrying out a hit at your own wedding, but it’s a mistake I will not repeat again.”
“A hit?”
He motions at his side, and that’s when I make out the blood oozing out of his shirt. Since the cloth is black, I didn’t notice it before. “Either your sniper missed, or perhaps…you asked him to do it on purpose? What is your message, Miss Sokolov? Do you think you can threaten me?”
His guard’s posture tightens more at his boss’s words, and his grip on the gun turns deadly. I have no doubt he’ll shoot any second now.
The thought of dying like this cripples me, but I hold on to logic, because Kai only respects that.
“We have no sniper.”
“Yes, you do.”
“The only sniper we use in the brotherhood was standing with me at the altar.”
“It could’ve been a different sniper, one for hire.”
“And you think I would hire them at my wedding to terrorize my family?”
“At first, I didn’t believe it, but it’s becoming more plausible by the second.”
A shadow appears behind Kai and points a gun at the back of his head. My breathing hitches at the view of Kyle’s face. He’s grounded, his grip on the gun steady, almost like he’s not holding a deadly weapon. “Tell your guard to drop his gun.”
Kai’s expression remains the same as if his life isn’t on the line. “Not before Miss Sokolov confesses.”
“Then your guard will be collecting your corpse.”
“And you will be collecting your wife’s.”
“I didn’t do it.” I meet Kai’s neutral black eyes. “I would never put my family in jeopardy and you know that.”
“You could sacrifice a member for the greater good.”
“We don’t believe in that in the brotherhood. We’re one for all and all for one.”
“There was a sniper,” Kai insists. “Do you deny that?”
“No.” I saw the window break myself. Even a toddler would know there was a sniper at the scene.
“Who do you think it is?”
“The Irish,” I say confidently. “They’re after the Italians and us. Lazlo and Sergei were their targets. Either you were caught in the crossfire by pure accident or they’re also bringing you in because you’re our ally.”
Kai motions at his guard with two fingers, and he lowers the gun. Kyle doesn’t disappear from behind him, probably because Kai can order his henchman to shoot me at any second.
“What option do you think it is?” Kai asks me. “Was it an accident or intentional?”
“Intentional.” I don’t even hesitate. “You wouldn’t have been that lucky if it were an accident.”
His lips twitch as he approaches me, not attempting to stop the blood oozing from his side. Sure, it’s not a lot, but it’s still a wound.
“I will pay a visit to V Corp.”
“Not Sergei?” I ask, bemused.
“Not Sergei.” He motions at my waist, and I follow his gaze to find blood on my front and on my wrists. I must’ve caught it during my sneaking journey. “Congratulations on the wedding.”
He reaches a hand out, probably to shake mine, but Kyle steps between us, blocking my vision of Kai. “You don’t get to touch her after you threatened to kill her. Piss off.”
“Fair enough.” I don’t see Kai’s face, but I can hear the smile in his tone. “Until we meet again.”
The guard bows his head in a show of respect and follows Kai. The moment they disappear, Kyle turns around so abruptly I flinch backward.
I’ve never seen this expression on his face. His eyes are fierce and the mask he usually wears is completely gone, allowing me a peek at the real man inside. And what I see in there? Well, it’s more complicated than anyone can decipher.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
It takes me a second to try to wrench myself out of his magnetic hold. “I told you I was coming with you.”
“And I told you to stay put.”
“Just because we’re married, barely, doesn’t give you the right to dictate my actions.”
“Bloody hell, Rai.” He kicks the car, causing its alarm to go off. “What if he shot you, huh? Would your stubbornness have saved you?”
“He wouldn’t have. Kai is our ally.”
“What if he decided he’s no longer an ally? What if he killed you to send a message to Sergei?”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“What if he did?”
“I would’ve gotten myself out of it.”
“You can’t get yourself out of death. The moment the bullet is in, it’s in—do you understand?”
I don’t know if he’s still talking about this situation or something entirely different, but I nod anyway. Even I realize we’re at different skill levels and this could’ve really ended badly for me.
He wraps a hand behind my back, and I yelp as he holds me in his arms bridal style.
I grab his shirt with my fingers for balance. “What are you doing?”
“Consummating our marriage, Princess. It’s long overdue.”
