Hunted By The Bratva Beast: A Bratva Stalker/Captive Romance by Jagger Cole (books to read in your 20s .txt) 📕

the room. My eyes swivel from the gaping black hole in the wall over to the door at the sound of men yelling outside. I hear Russian, which is comforting. But then suddenly I hear the rapid popping sound of machine gun fire.

I feel the panic rise, but I take a breath to squash it out. I glance around, gritting my teeth when I realize there’s not going to be a gun in reach. The shooting outside gets louder, and closer. I hear men yelling and the muffled explosions.

There are screams and glass shattering. And then suddenly, something slams into the door from the outside. I start to swing my legs out to get out of the damn bed, when suddenly the entire door explodes in. I scream and dive to the floor, hissing as the IV tower crashes over me.

Through the flaming wreckage of the door, three men come charging in with automatic rifles. One spots me on the floor next to the bed and grins as he raises his rifle. I scream, but suddenly all three of them twist and shudder before falling to the ground, dead.

There’s more shooting outside, but then suddenly, a huge shape looms through the fire and smoke in the door. The shape of a man is so huge, he stoops to duck under the door frame. And then suddenly, he’s standing right there, looking at me.

Kostya.

I’m speechless. I’m numb, and tingling, and choking actually on the smoke pouring into the room. The sprinkler system rains down on both of us as we just stare at each other for two full seconds. But then just as quickly, he strides towards me.

I gasp as he yanks me up and over his shoulder. On instinct, and maybe a little out of the fear and the adrenaline from the situation, I start to fight and thrash. I kick and hit. I scream at him to let me go. But his grip only tightens. His arm and shoulder flex like steel under my body.

Yet again, I’m not sure if this man is my fantasy or my nightmare. But either way, he’s got me now.

Another explosion rocks the building. Kostya whirls, and he roars as he fires on two men who rush into the room. He bolts for the door when they fall. But suddenly, another thunderous explosion booms—this one right next to us. And this time, it all goes black.

12

Kostya

Moscow, Ten Years Ago:

It’s all gone wrong. All of it: the entrance, the guard that wasn’t supposed to be at work today, the security gates that Fyodor paid a man on the inside to disable.

The alarms aren’t supposed to be going off. The blank money orders aren’t supposed to still be in the safe behind the gates. Dimitri isn’t supposed to be lying pale, wide-eyed, and motionless in a pool of his blood.

I look down at him, my pulse thudding like a drum in my ears. There are so many holes in his chest—so many big red spots on his grey jacket. For a second, it reminds me of the paper butterflies from earlier today—bright color against the drab of the apartment building.

I take his hand in mine, but I don’t have to try too hard to find a pulse. Dimitri is dead. The plan is fucked. It’s all gone wrong.

We’re in an alley three streets away from the post office. But the sounds of sirens wailing through the city, and the helicopter overhead tells me we’re already screwed. By now, the city is on lockdown. The net is slowly closing in, and it’s a matter of time before they find us here.

Someone is shaking me. I look up and see Fyodor looking grim and haggard.

“He’s dead, boy,” he grunts, nodding at Dimitri.

I turn back to take Dimitri’s hand. But Fyodor pulls me away again, he kneels in front of me, patting my cheek with his hand.

“I am sorry, my boy,” he says tersely. “I am so very sorry.”

“The guard…” I grit my teeth. “The gates…”

“We got fucked, Kostya,” Fyodor grunts. He glances behind him at the entrance to the alley when a siren wails close.

“We don’t have much time, my boy.” He pats my cheek again. “They will chase us and hunt us both if we run. And I…” his mouth thins. “I cannot go to prison, Kostya. I have enemies there who will cut my throat before my first night in.”

“We can run—”

“We won’t make it out of the city. Not now.” His face hardens as he looks at me. His mouth smiles a touch. “You have been like a son to me, Kostya. I know I was hard on you—you and Dimitri. But this is what I have been preparing you for. This moment, right now.”

I feel my heart clench. I nod. “I know that, Fyodor.”

“You’ve been such a good boy, Kostya. You’ve made me so proud. And now…” he frowns. “I need you to do this for me. For your family.”

I frown. “Do what?”

“If we both run, they will catch us, and we will both go to prison.” He clears his throat. “But if they have only one runner…”

I freeze. “You…you want me to run.”

“I want them to catch you, Kostya,” he says quietly.

“And go to prison.”

He nods. “Da, my boy. My son. I need you to do this, because this is what family does. Think of the life I have given you—the food in your belly, the roof over your head. The opportunities and skills I have given you.”

I’m cold. “You want me to go to prison?”

“Do this for me, Kostya. Do this for your father, yes?”

I swallow. “How long…”

“I don’t know. For this?” He shrug. “No time. No time at all. Especially if you turn yourself in. You keep me out of it and tell them Dimitri was the only other one, and they will clap themselves on the back.”

“Da, but how long will I—”

“I don’t know, Kostya,” he snaps. Sirens wail closer in the distance. “But I need you