Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I’m only vaguely aware of the honking behind us and the black SUV pulling up alongside our car. It’s not until we swerve sharply and the bodyguards curse, drawing their weapons, that I realize something is happening.
From the front passenger seat, Vankov is shouting at the driver, “Don’t let that motherfucker force you off the—fuck!” The black car rams into us from the right, and the brakes screech as we veer left. If not for my seatbelt and for the bodyguard sitting next me, I’d have been thrown across the car. As is, I grab on to the seat in front of me with a strength born of a sudden surge of adrenaline.
Attack.
We’re under attack.
A part of me can’t believe it. I mean, I have security for a reason, but still. It’s broad daylight, and we’re a few minutes’ drive from the center of Moscow. One would have to be suicidal to attack the Molotov family so openly.
The driver slams on the brakes so suddenly my head whips forward and the seatbelt cuts into my ribcage, squeezing all the air from my lungs. We screech to a halt. Fuck! We nearly crashed into a van that’s appeared out of nowhere to block the road ahead of us. The driver attempts to reverse, but something rams into us from behind, forcing the car to stop again.
Boxed in. We’re boxed in, I realize as the bodyguards swear again. In addition to the van in the front, there are three SUVs—one on each side of us and one behind us. They’ve forced us off the main road onto this side street, ignoring any and all witnesses. My pulse revs up higher. I can only think of one enemy of ours who would dare be so bold, so brazenly—
And there he is.
The van door facing us slides open, and out comes none other than my former intended, Alexei Leonov himself.
Dressed in all black like the angel of death, he comes toward me with long, furious strides. His expression matches his clothes, his eyes glowing darkly and his jaw tightly clenched.
For a moment, I’m so struck by the sight of him—and by the heat that flashes under my skin—that I can’t move a muscle. Then panic whips through me as five more men jump out of the van after him and eight more emerge from the SUVs on either side of us, armed with semi-automatic rifles.
There’s no way my four bodyguards could fight them and win.
“Holster your guns,” I say shakily, fumbling with my seatbelt as my bodyguards jump out of the car to confront the danger. “It’s okay. I know him.”
And I know he won’t hesitate to kill anyone who stands in his way.
Vankov grits his teeth but does as I ordered. The other guards follow his example.
Meanwhile, Alexei reaches my door and yanks it open. His eyes burn into me. “Get out. Now.”
I open the door on the opposite side and scramble out of the car, my heart pounding wildly. For the first time in weeks, I feel alive. Alive and terrified. I can only begin to guess at what Alexei wants, and none of the guesses are reassuring.
At my small defiance, his eyes narrow and he rounds the car with the same furious strides, reaching me before I can even think about running. Gripping my elbow, he drags me to the van and pushes me into one of the rows of seats in the back, then climbs in and slides the door shut behind us, isolating us from the men outside.
As soon as he lets go of my elbow, I scramble across the seat, as far away from him as I can get in the close confines of the van’s cabin. My breath comes fast and shallow as his eyes lock on me, still narrowed, still furious.
And then, just like that, I’m furious too. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I stop shrinking against the window and jut out my chin, glaring at him. “My brothers—”
“Fuck your brothers.” His jaw works violently as he braces one hand on the seat in front of us, trapping me in place. “I’ve been trying to see you for weeks.”
“So you came with a fucking army to run my car off the road?”
“Would you rather I used said army to storm your residence? That was on the agenda for this Sunday, but luckily, you emerged from your lair before that.”
I suck in a shocked breath. He was going to try to force his way into the penthouse despite all the guards and security measures? “Why?” is all I can find the wherewithal to ask as I stare into his grim face.
His mouth twists. “Why do you think?” Dropping his hand, he takes in a visible breath. Some of the fury leaves his gaze, his tone softening minutely as he says, “I wanted to talk to you, express my condolences for your loss… make sure you’re healing okay.”