20. Mila

20

MILA

A lek slammed against me, knocking us to the ground. My ears rang with the blast of the gun fired so close, and I sucked in a quick breath and held it. Terror held me in its grip, and I did my best to break Alek's fall.

He was too large to buffer his drop to the ground. Combined with his tackle, the force of his taking the bullet Andrey had aimed at me, and the sketchy stance I'd stood with as I tried to shrink out of my former fiancé's sight, I was on my ass. Flat on my ass, stunned by the juddering impact of being brought down.

My life had flashed before my eyes. The second Andrey pointed his gun at me, I swore I felt my essence slipping away. My soul faded and my vision blurred with extreme horror. This was it, the moment I would be done with my time in this life.

But Alek had other plans. He dove in front of me, taking the hit of the bullet, and I scrambled to keep up with the frantic change of events. My mind lagged. My senses were sluggish. I felt as though I looked through tunnel vision, vaguely able to know what was what. My reaction time was delayed, hence my rough fall, but the throbbing hit of crashing to the floor jolted me. It jarred me to wake the fuck up, to move, to be smart and help this big, strong man who'd been my hero more than he'd proven to be an enemy.

"Alek," I repeated as I panicked and felt over his body. He replied in a groan, twisting on my lap, but he couldn't get up. A warm flood of blood from his shoulder and back reached my dress, and I groped and felt around to try to stem the bleeding.

"You think you can trade up?" Andrey sneered at me. "Or down?" He laughed, brutish and loud as he watched Alek moan in agony.

"Fuck off," the other man shouted.

Maxim? I couldn't recall which of Alek's brothers was supposed to meet us here. Which one Alek had spoken with on the phone. He resembled the wounded man on my lap, though, and I knew he was trying to help.

I doubted he could do anything from that weak position against the chair. My heart hammered as I did inventory, rushing to make sense of what was most urgent. Alek was breathing harshly on my lap. He lived, for now, but with how heavy he was on me, I was trapped on the floor and unable to move him to access his wound.

Maxim wasn't much better off. Red stains littered his white shirt, and he dragged in air with rough, ragged inhales as he tried to stand with the chair's assistance.

And the priest… I checked a glance at him as well, nervous when I saw that he'd ceased mumbling his prayers to himself.

The other Valkov near the door was dead, unmoving and stiff.

That summed it up to zero. I had no chance for help in here, and I'd have to rely on myself.

"You want more, huh?" Andrey stalked over to Maxim and pistol whipped him for speaking up, and Alek groaned, trying to stand as he covered my hand that I'd pressed at his wound. My legs shook from the adrenaline wiring through me, but my knees ached with the pressure of keeping his large body over me. I couldn't tell whether he was too wounded and winded to get up, but I figured it would be smart to stay together. As one. If I could protect him half as much as he'd protected me, I would.

"You stupid fucking whore," Andrey taunted as he returned to me, lifting his gun again. Grinning maniacally like that, he looked deranged, insane and unstable, high on the opportunity to kill these men. His words were directed at me, but I didn't give a shit. He'd ceased mattering to me the moment Alek busted me out of that church. Andrey failed to have any meaning in my life the second Alek took my virginity.

I was no longer anything to Andrey, but it seemed like he didn't agree.

"You shouldn't have run from the Family, you stupid fucker. You shouldn't have tried to run and start a war like that," he shouted. He aimed the gun at Alek, smirking as he wiped blood and sweat from his brow. "You stupid, good-for-nothing piece of shit." His foot connected with Alek's thigh, and since he was draped over me, I felt the residual hit of Andrey's boot shoving him back with the brutal kick. I clung to him, hugging him the best I could even though it wouldn't make a difference in his fate. It wouldn't make a difference in his pain, either.

I didn't know what else to do. I wanted to stop this madness. I needed to get us out of here alive, but I was stuck, like always.

"War was overdue," Maxim argued, coughing around his words as he hung over the back of the chair. He was too weak, limited in his ability to stand, but I knew what he was doing.

Stalling. He was delaying the inevitable, pulling this madman's focus away from his brother. Alek must have realized it too, because he growled and gritted his teeth, straining to get up. Through slitted eyes, he caught my attention and leaned toward me.

Was he trying to get up? Fight back? Or was his pain too hard on that side? I couldn't understand, but after Andrey punched Maxim back to silence and stomped his way back toward us, I felt it.

Alek wasn't so cocky and confident to get up like this. He wasn't fidgeting. He'd only been trying to get his gun. I felt the hard press of it, wedged between our bodies. The barrel of the firearm pulled against my skin, and I slipped my hand to my thigh to try to grip it and pull it out. A weapon would help, but only if I could use it in time.

"Only thing that was overdue is getting rid of you ," Andrey vowed nefariously. He lifted his gun that dripped with blood from Maxim's face. Drops plopped down through the air as Andrey pointed the end of his barrel directly at Alek's head, but I was faster.

As his trigger finger twitched, I lifted Alek's gun and aimed. I didn't hesitate. I didn't second-guess myself. I fired the gun right at Andrey's chest in the same moment that I hauled Alek closer to me. My fingers slipped on his bloody shirt, but I gained enough of a grip that I could pull him toward me.

Just in time.

Just out of the way of Andrey's bullet embedding into the floor where Alek's head had rested a second before.

Andrey groaned, slapping his hand to his wound that gushed blood. His gun fell from his hand as he pressed the through and through gunshot wound I'd given him. With a furious sneer, he stared at me as he stumbled back a step.

I kept the gun trained on him, letting him see that I had pulled the trigger. That I was the one who'd ended him. My fingers shook with a fine tremor, but I remained rigid and stubborn, not faltering in my focus on him. If he tried anything at all, I'd be ready to fire again.

It was a clean, direct hit right at his heart. His ribcage was shattered, and his vitals were plummeting. He rocked forward and sank to his knees as he lowered his chin. Still staring at me, likely damning me to hell, he slumped to the side like a ship going under.

Gravity finished his drop, and his legs kicked out as his body folded to the floor. He wheezed, breathing faster. Once blood trickled past his lips, I knew it was over.

I'd stunned us both. He probably hadn't counted on me to stand up for myself—to stand up for Alek and go to such a length to protect him.

But I had.

I killed him.

I killed a man. Not just anyone, but the heir to the Valkov Bratva.

My nerves were already frayed. Inside my mind, thoughts and rational connections struggled to connect and fire. In a shell- shocked state of stupor, I breathed hard and willed my heart to keep up with this suspense and danger.

The sheer incredulity, too.

I killed him.

I'd never used violence like this, not directed at anyone, but more than that, I'd never, ever been in the position to take someone's life.

Alek moaned, rolling his head to see his cousin dead on the floor. I snapped out of the haze of pure shock and ran my hands over him. My fingers were coated with blood from the wound on his shoulder, but as I hurried to check him over, I realized the bullet hadn't entered straight through him. He must have twisted as he'd tackled me, leaving his shoulder and back to take the brunt of that bullet grazing him deeply.

"Are you…?" I couldn't speak. My vocal cords were stiff, frozen from the shock, but I didn't need to talk. Alek understood my tentative and probing search over him. He nodded weakly, grimacing as I tried to lay him on the floor.

Once I had him off my lap, I could kneel and peer at him closer. He was in pain, no doubt, but he was alive and breathing. No vital organs had been impacted or severed.

"I…" I swallowed hard, my mouth so dry that I could have sworn I'd spent a week screaming to make it this hoarse. Only the adrenaline did this. It was just the shock of the events that had me jittery and mute.

Once more, I looked at Andrey's lifeless eyes staring back at us, and I tuned out the grisly sensation of the dead's attention.

Alek breathed steadier, keeping his hand over his wound. "I'm…" He nodded again, giving up on voicing the fact that he would make it.

Knowing he was stable, I crawled to my hands and knees and checked on the others. That man by the door was a lost cause, but Maxim and the priest, they were hanging in there.

I staggered to Maxim, pulling a strip of lacy ornamentation from the remains of my wedding gown's skirt. It wasn't much for a gauze or bandage, but I used it to compress the bloodiest spot on his side.

"Stabbed me," he muttered after hissing at my touch.

I nodded, checking him over quickly for any other deep injuries. I saw none that bled as much as the gash on his side, and I brought his hand toward the folded-up bunch of fabric.

"The priest." He tipped his chin toward the man, grinding his teeth as he slumped into the chair. "He was stabbed too."

I nodded, not wasting another second to hurry to the religious authority. He prayed yet, mumbling for forgiveness, and I was so edgy, so overwhelmed by the action, that I almost laughed. Forgiveness? From whom? Or for whom?

He didn't protest as I slipped his colorful stole free from his shoulders. I didn't know what it was called, but the long length of multicolored blue and black ceremonial material was an ideal compress for the knife slashes on his torso and up near his neck.

I supposed he was right to pray to his god. If Andrey had aimed his blade just a fraction higher, the priest wouldn't have lasted this far.

Satisfied that they all seemed stable, I scrambled back to Alek. As I rejoined him, I glanced again at Andrey.

I killed him.

I actually killed someone! Shock kept my observations detached, as though I wasn't myself but another bystander looking in. I couldn't make sense of the gravity of what I'd done.

"Mila…" Alek groaned as he tried to sit again, but I kept him down and ripped off more lacy material to stem his bleeding.

I couldn't have left them unattended. I was no nurse, but it was in my nature to help them. Just like I did for Rosamund and others in my bratva. If I had the power to show another person pity and compassion, I wouldn't hesitate.

But a careful glance around the room showed me that they would make it. All three of them. Maxim, the priest, and Alek. They'd live, and with that simple goal ensured, it was the perfect time to look out for myself.

I can run. I could get up and sprint out of here. I'd done my good deed. I'd assisted them with their wounds. None of them were in any condition to chase me down, and I knew without a shadow of hesitation that this would be my chance. This was the window of opportunity I needed to be free to run and get away at last.

But I didn't. I remained lodged right here as I glanced again at Andrey.

I'd just taken out the heir of the Valkov Family. I'd done so for the sake of saving Alek, but that detail didn't change the fact that I'd pulled the trigger and ended Pavel Valkov's son.

My intended husband—my former fiancé.

Alek had taken that role, and as he grabbed my hand, I squeezed his fingers back.

I'm a dead woman walking now.

I couldn't run. I had nowhere to go. Not a single place on earth would keep me safe from the reality that I'd killed Andrey Valkov.

I swallowed hard and lowered my gaze to Alek.

I don't want to run. With a deep, long look from him, I understood that he was asking me the silent question.

Would I stay? Or would I go?

I knew the choice I had to make. Nothing was strong enough to make me bolt and leave him like this now. I was already in too deep to do anything other than to want him, to care for him. I couldn't figure out when or how it had happened, but sometime between his visit to the S.T.L. headquarters offices and the moment I killed to protect him, I'd fallen into a trap of wanting to keep him in my life.

I shook my head, holding his hand. I wasn't going anywhere, and there was only one way to prove it.

After I strained to clear my throat, I lifted my face and addressed the priest.

"Can you still marry us?"