Chapter 20 —Lev
Everything happened so fast.
One minute, we were stepping out of the casino together with her beside me, and the next, bang!
The gunshot was so loud it startled her, leaving her frozen in place and shocked to hear the bones crack. My reflexes kicked in the moment the shot rang out, and in a split second, I stepped in front of her without hesitation.
With a strategic and well-calculated move, I shoved her behind me as a sharp, searing pain cut through my arm. The bullet grazed my skin by mere inches, tearing through my flesh in the process.
“Get down!” I tackled Ravyn to the ground, ignoring the pain in my arm.
My men rushed over to cover us, the sound of rapid gunfire filling the air as they fought back. She lay on her stomach, shaking like a leaf with her hands over her ears.
I scanned her body for any signs of injuries, and when I didn’t find any, I glanced around the chaos, watching my trained men take down our attackers. Based on my observations, those guys had stepped out of a van parked across the street.
This was a coordinated attack. They’d been in that vehicle, waiting for me to step out of the building. Right now, I wasn’t even sure if I was the target or if my wife was. Whoever those bastards were, they knew I would be at this casino for a Bratva meeting.
They also knew exactly when the meeting would end. This was an inside job. Someone close to me was behind this. It was the only explanation that came to mind because how the fuck did they know my whereabouts at this time of the night?
I counted five of them, but unfortunately for them, my men outnumbered and outgunned the assailants. In no time, all five armed attackers were shot down.
In the brief ceasefire, my lieutenant barked in Russian, ordering some of the men to go check out the van. From the look of things, it was over for tonight. Our attackers were dead, and their bodies lay sprawled across the streets, blood pooling beneath them.
Yet, my men were still on high alert, refusing to lay down their guard.
“Sir, we have to go now!” Yakov said to me, his voice laced with urgency. “Hey, get the car ready!” he barked at one of the men.
Ravyn was still trembling with fear when I helped her up, gripping her hands tightly, as if anchoring her to reality.
“Are you okay?” I asked her, eyes sweeping over her body again. “Are you hurt?”
She was silent, her gaze fixed on the dead bodies on the street.
“Ravyn!” I tapped her face rapidly, shifting her gaze back to me.
She blinked a few times, her throat wobbling as she swallowed hard. “I’m okay,” she whispered, lips trembling.
“Sir, we have to go. Now,” Yakov insisted, his eyes wandering the surroundings as though searching for potential danger.
“Can you walk?” I asked her.
She locked her jaw and nodded.
“Come on.” I took her hand, and, flanked by heavily armed men, I led her toward the car a few steps ahead.
Yakov took the wheel as my wife and I slid into the backseat of the black SUV. The engine roared to life, tires screeched loudly, and then Yakov drove off into the night. To avoid any attack on our convoy, I told him to take a different route.
This was a last-minute change of plan to ensure our safety; that way, the enemy wouldn’t know our next move or where to ambush us. At this point, I knew I couldn’t trust anyone, no one at all—not even Yakov. I’d lived long enough to see lieutenants turn against their bosses.
The only person I trusted was myself; anyone else in my circle might be compromised. I couldn’t take that chance.
Again, the question lingered in my head: Who was the target tonight, me or Ravyn? I could understand why someone would want me dead. But just the thought of my enemies targeting my wife’s life made me furious.
I vowed in that moment to get to the bottom of this and make those bastards pay for their crimes. But unlike them, when I attacked, I wouldn’t miss.
“You’re bleeding,” Ravyn’s voice sliced through my thoughts.
That was when I felt the blood running warm down my sleeve. I glanced at it with a nonchalant look; it didn’t matter at all. What mattered was the fact that she was alive and well.
“I’ve had worse,” I answered, my voice calm and collected. “I’ll live.”
The concern in her eyes was unlike any I’d ever seen before. She seemed worried about me and couldn’t look away from my eyes. Ravyn kept her gaze fixed on me, and the more she looked, the softer her expression became.
This wasn’t just about the blood—the wounded arm—it was more than that. Deeper. More affectionate. I knew exactly what was running through her mind, and I didn’t want to talk about it. She was wondering why I took a bullet for her and what that gesture might mean.
I had no response to that and no plans to explain what the hell just happened. Not right now anyway.
She broke eye contact and glanced out the window, her head resting against the glass.
The journey back home was peaceful, and in no time, we returned safely to the penthouse. She headed straight to our bedroom to calm herself. I figured she might need some time alone. Besides, I had no idea how to comfort her right now.
In the meantime, I needed to take a look at this wound and clear my head.
***
I was in my study later that evening, shirtless, drinking directly from a bottle of vodka. It helped me stay focused while I nursed my wounded arm. I was stitching my torn flesh when I heard a soft knock on the door.
My gaze flicked toward the entrance, and before I could ask who it was, the door creaked open. A flutter rose in my chest when I set eyes on her, wondering what she was doing here. She should be resting.
“Can I come in?” Ravyn asked me, her voice soft and polite.
This was the first time she had knocked and asked for permission to come into my study. Strange.
I nodded once.
She walked inside and closed the door behind her, her arms folded across her chest. Her honey-blonde hair was damp, her perfume blending with the scent of soap and shampoo, hinting that she’d just stepped out of the shower.
She was wearing a pair of jean shorts that hugged her hips and an oversized sweater with sleeves that swallowed her arms. In her eyes was a glint of something I’d yet to name, something lighter than usual. She drew closer, her bare feet soundless against the floor.
“Need a hand with that?” She nodded at my wounded arm.
I hesitated for a second. “I’m good.”
“Yeah. I’m sure you are.” She dragged a nearby chair, her tone laced with sarcasm.
Ravyn sat in front of me and took my hand, her beautiful blue eyes examining the wound. “Hold still,” she said. “I’ll take it from here.”
I couldn’t dissuade her at this point; her mind was made up. She was determined to stay and help. Maybe she needed the distraction because stitching me up would keep her mind busy.
She was too shaken to be alone anyway.