Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Marina, say something.” The voice sounded closer, but I still couldn’t figure out who was speaking.
The ringing in my ears was too loud.
The world had stopped moving, but my head hadn’t caught up with it yet.
There was too much adrenaline in my veins, too much panic, too much shock to make sense of anything other than the single glowing red ember that faded in and out on the leather seat in front of me.
I watched it, unable to take my eyes off of the glowing red until it faded into nothing. It took a few minutes, or maybe it was only a second, for me to blink and be able to look around. The driver was still alive, coming to, shaking his head, trying to clear the shock.
“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” another, closer voice said.
Kostya.
He came.
He’d found me.
I turned to see Oleg, crouched on the roof of the car, gun at the ready as he shot out the window of his door that had somehow miraculously survived the crash and kicked it out.
“No,” I tried to say, but nothing but air wheezed from my lungs.
I reached out, trying to stop Oleg, but it was too late.
He was already out of the car, intent on killing Kostya.
CHAPTER 32
KOSTYA
My stomach dropped in horror as the car with Marina inside flipped and landed on the grassy strip at the side of the road.
I was out of the car before Damien had even pulled over, swearing at him for shooting out the tire instead of the driver.
If he had shot out the driver, the car would have slowly come to a stop and Marina would have been able to get out safely.
Instead, she was in a horrific accident, and I had absolutely no idea if she was injured, or worse.
How could Damian be so fucking stupid?
Deep down, I knew logically that Damien wasn’t being stupid.
He was relying on his training in high-speed chases and shooting out the tires was definitely the right move if there wasn’t precious cargo in the fucking car.
If he had hurt her, if she was injured or worse, then I was going to kill him with my bare hands, and then I was going to kill Solovyov and every other motherfucker that was involved.
Then I was going to kill their families, their associates, and every other asshole they had ever met. There would be no stopping the bloodbath that I would rain down on this city and back home in Moscow.
I flew out of the car, barely keeping my feet under me as I ran, my heart pounding, my lungs burning as my legs pumped faster and faster, taking me even closer to that car.
The entire time I prayed with everything I had that Marina was okay.
That stupid high-speed chase had put her in more danger than she was already in.
How could I let that happen? How could I fail her again and again?
A foot came out of the window of the back passenger door on the driver’s side and for a second I thought Marina was okay, for just a flash I thought she was getting out of the car. Instead, I saw Oleg.
Solovyov’s favorite hitman and pet psychopath crawled out of the car, his scarred face made even bloodier by the accident.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to see him.
After all, he was who Solovyov sent to do his dirty work.
He stood to his full height and glared at me with a Glock in his hand. Before he could even raise it, I lifted my gun and shot, firing a single bullet neatly between his eyes.
He dropped like a ton of bricks, his eyes still open, staring lifelessly into the road.
Asshole.
I gave him a quick, painless death. He deserved so much worse. From the stories I had heard about Oleg and what he liked to do to women and children, he should have died slowly, in a great deal of pain. It would have only been a fraction of what that monster had inflicted on others.
Making him suffer was the devil’s responsibility now.
The only person I needed to be worried about was Marina.
I grabbed Oleg’s corpse by the shoulders and dragged him away from the car so I could look in the back seat for Marina.
She was hanging upside down, still strapped into the car.
Her arms were covered in bloody scrapes, and she was holding the bag in her hands, clutching it to her chest as she stared blankly ahead. She was pale and trembling but looked relatively unharmed. Shaken but alive.
Yanking on the door did nothing. I moved around to her side and tried to open that door, but it wouldn’t budge. The frame was too bent.
Marina’s eyes were wide, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to form words.
I needed to get her out of there now.