Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(66)

First man he encountered, double-tap to the chest.

Cursing, Vlad played catch up, running ahead to take the hit if anyone was able to shoot back. He had always promised to protect Mishca with his life, even when he was throwing it away.

By the time they were down the short hallway and entering into the large space where Mishca spotted Brahim, three more men were dead.

Brahim spun around slowly and as Mishca raised his gun to finish him off, he immediately dropped his arm when he saw what Brahim was holding.

He was holding Lauren to his chest, his arm banded around her, his gun just inches from her head.

“You shoot, she dies.”

He didn’t have to say a word. Vlad and Luka lowered their guns, though he did have to give Luka a hard look when he didn’t take his finger off the trigger.

“How did you find me?”

“Put the gun down and I won’t kill you,” Mishca said through gritted teeth though everyone in the room knew that that was false.

Brahim gave Lauren a measured stare, one that Mishca didn’t understand, but he was itching to take him out, but there was no way to do that safely without harming Lauren in the process.

“Give me the diamond and you can have the girl back.”

There was a sort of desperation in Brahim’s voice, one that told Mishca everything he needed to know.

First, this wasn’t about Mishca, himself. He realized now that Jetmir hadn’t known what Brahim had done, and this was his attempt at recognition amongst his organization’s ranks, but someone should have warned him about the consequences of his actions. He didn’t know how, but this wasn’t going to end well for either of them.

Second, Naomi had something to do with this. There was no reason for the Albanian to think he had anything to do with their precious stone, yet he had gone out of his way to kidnap Lauren and demand it?

When he found her, no matter how long it took, she would pay for her part in this.

“This is not a negotiation,” Mishca said raising his voice. “It ends now.”

“You don’t demand me!” Brahim snapped, bringing his hand up to wrap around Lauren’s throat.

Behind him, Mishca thought he saw a glimmer of something across the way in another window, but he was too distracted by Brahim to get a good look at it.

When he put the gun flush against Lauren’s temple, Mishca’s eyes finally shifted to hers. What he saw there took all of the bravado out of him.

Fear. It was such an ugly emotion on her, one that ate at him. In that moment, just staring into her eyes, he regretted it all. He could have fought harder for her to leave, or at the very least, tell her the truth from the beginning so she would be prepared and more willing to listen to him.

“Nichego ne sluchitsya s vami—Nothing is going to happen to you,” he promised in Russian.

He wanted to reassure her, reassure himself that because he got her into this, he would get her out.

“Take me instead,” Mishca said still looking at Lauren though the words were directed at Brahim. “Until you recover your property, you can hold me. I’m sure your brother will agree to this after what I did to him.”

“Jetmir?” Now Brahim was furious. “What have you done with him?”

“Ne v etom delo—Not the point. Do we have a deal?”

“No, you—”

But he never got to finish that thought, because as soon as he removed the gun from Lauren’s head, pointing it now at Mishca, the glass behind him shattered.

Lauren screamed, scrambling away as a projectile exited the front of Brahim’s head, his body going limp and slumping to the floor, a pool of blood quickly staining the floor.

Mishca looked back at Vlad and Luka, but both of them looked confused as well, already looking to the open window for answers.

Leaving it for the moment, Mishca grabbed Lauren, yanking her into his arms as he held her with as much strength as he could muster. Her entire body was racked with shivers, but she wasn’t sobbing, which Mishca didn’t know whether to be thankful or worried.

So much had happened over the last few weeks that he was worried she was growing accustomed to his violent lifestyle, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Over her shoulder, he spied Brahim’s body and he didn’t have to worry about if he was still breathing. From experience, Mishca knew there was about a dime sized hole in the back of his head, while he didn’t even want to contemplate what the front looked like…if there was still one.

Mishca finally drew back, cupping Lauren’s face as he kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again, knowing that it probably wouldn’t help, but he felt the need to say it anyway.

Her eyes were watery and blood-shot, but she wasn’t crying. She just looked relieved.

“Let me take you home.”

She nodded, but before he could call Luka and Vlad to him, loud footsteps on the stairwell stopped him.

They were deliberate, meant to call attention to whoever was arriving, and as Mishca looked from the window, to the corpse, and back to the hallway, he stiffened.

He knew who was coming.

Twelve more steps brought the stranger to the entryway.

He was distinctly male, with a sniper rifle across his back, throwing knives strapped to his thighs, decked out in full tactical gear that was as dark as the man’s soul. His face was concealed by a black mask, the design rather plain with only the eyes cut out and a space for the nose and mouth.