CHAPTER 25 #2
I grab Andrei by his blood-soaked lapels and try to hoist his massive torso into the seat, but he’s just a mountain of unresponsive muscle.
I let out a primal, guttural groan, shoving my shoulder directly into his chest to heave his upper body upward.
His shaved head lolls back heavily, his blood instantly staining the cream-colored leather headrest a vibrant, sickening crimson.
His heavy, tattooed arm flops uselessly out of the car and I have to stop, my hands shaking violently with fatigue, just to shove it aggressively back inside so it doesn't get crushed.
"Get in! Get in, damn you!" I scream, tears of sheer frustration burning the corners of my eyes. "Stay with me, Andrei."
With one final, desperate, full-body shove that leaves me practically sobbing with exertion, I finally get his upper body and hips positioned onto the seat.
But it’s a logistical nightmare. His long legs are still dangling completely out the open door, his ridiculously expensive loafers dragging in the filthy slush.
I don't have time to fix it. I fumble with his seatbelt for a split second before realizing it’s a complete waste of precious time and abandoning it.
I grab the passenger door and slam it as hard as I physically can, but it just bounces right off his thick shins with a hollow clunk.
A bullet shatters the side mirror right next to my head.
"Close! Just close!" I scream at the metal, but I have to leave the door completely ajar.
I abandon the door and sprint around the front of the car, bullets literally punching jagged holes into the hood as I pass.
I dive headfirst into the driver's seat just as the front windshield explodes inward with a deafening crash.
A billion tiny shards of safety glass shower my hair, my bare shoulders, and the dashboard.
I don't even flinch. I violently brush the glass off the dashboard with a frantic sweep of my hand, slicing my palm open in the process, and grip the steering wheel like it’s my only lifeline.
"Move, you piece of shit! Move!" I roar at the dashboard.
I slam the gearshift down into drive and floor the accelerator pedal to the floorboards.
The tires spin uselessly on the thick black ice, screaming in high-pitched protest and sending up massive plumes of acrid white smoke.
For a terrifying, eternal heartbeat, the car stays completely stationary—a perfect, sitting duck while the engine redlines.
I white-knuckle the steering wheel, my bloodless knuckles turning ghostly white under the streetlights.
"Come on, come on, come on!" I beg the machine.
Finally, the hot rubber bites down into the pavement and the luxury car lurches forward with a violent, neck-snapping jolt.
I tear blindly out of the valet area, sideswiping a massive concrete planter with a blinding shower of yellow sparks and the horrendous sound of rending metal.
I crank the wheel for a sharp, screeching left turn onto the main road.
The heavy momentum of the turn finally swings the passenger door shut with a heavy, satisfying thud, pinning Andrei’s legs securely inside the cabin.
I throw a wild glance at the door handle to make sure the lock is actually latched, my breath coming in ragged, tearing gasps.
"Hold on. Just hold on," I tell him, though he can't hear me over the howling wind rushing through the broken windshield.
We are clear of the immediate kill zone, but we are absolutely nowhere near safe.
I weave erratically through the sparse late-night city traffic, the damaged Mercedes engine roaring like a wounded animal as I push the speedometer past eighty.
The freezing winter air is numbing my face, but the adrenaline is keeping me hyper-focused.
I wipe a thick smudge of Andrei's blood off the rearview mirror so I can actually see behind me.
Sure enough, twin sets of aggressive LED headlights from the black SUVs are pulling out of the plaza, cutting through the traffic to give chase.
They aren't letting this go. I am driving a highly visible, wrecked beacon of crime right through the heart of the city.
"They're coming. Damn it, they're coming," I hiss through my teeth.
A wet, horrific gurgling cough erupts from the passenger seat.
I flinch so hard I nearly jerk the steering wheel into a parked car.
I look over to see Andrei's ice-blue eyes fluttering open.
He coughs again, his massive chest heaving, and a sickening spray of bright, arterial blood coats the leather dashboard and the glowing navigation screen.
His terrifying face is the color of wet ash, his lips tinged a sickly, bruised blue.
He is actively drowning in his own blood.
I reach out and squeeze his heavy, ruined shoulder with my bloody hand, trying to anchor him to the waking world through sheer physical force.
"Andrei! Stay with me! Talk to me!" I yell over the wind. "Don't go to sleep. Do you hear me?"
Andrei doesn't speak. He can't. Instead, his massive hand, trembling violently and slick with dark gore, lifts heavily toward the center console.
He blindly fumbles with the car's built-in GPS screen, his thick fingers leaving terrible crimson smears across the glass display.
The man is moving on pure, stubborn muscle memory, his brow deeply furrowed in a mask of absolute agony.
I have to lock my left hand on the steering wheel to keep us on the road, while my right hand shoots out to steady his thick wrist so his shaking fingers can actually hit the right digital buttons.
"What are you doing? Tell me where to go!" I demand, panic making my voice shrill.
"Coordinates... input..." he manages to gurgle out, blood spilling over his bottom lip.
He manages to painstakingly tap in a long string of coordinates.
The GPS screen flashes brightly, recalculating the route, and then a perfectly calm, synthetic female voice chirps over the car's speakers: "Destination: Industrial Sector.
Route guidance started." I glance down at the digital map, seeing that the destination is some desolate, unnamed pier on the far edge of the frozen river.
Andrei lets out a long, ragged, shuddering breath, his heavy hand falling back into his lap like a dropped stone.
"I’ve got it. I see it. We’re going," I tell him, pressing my foot harder onto the gas. "Just keep breathing."
With the task complete, the last sliver of fight simply leaves his body.
The faint light completely vanishes from his ice-blue eyes.
His head lolls to the side, hitting the shattered window frame with a dull, sickening clunk.
His ragged breathing becomes so shallow it’s almost imperceptible, and then he goes completely, totally still.
Panic claws up my throat. I reach over instantly, my trembling fingers searching frantically for a pulse at the thick cord of his neck.
I find it—weak, thready, erratic, but there.
I quickly adjust the angle of his heavy head so his airway stays open, my bloody hand lingering against the freezing skin of his jaw for a second too long.
"Don't you die. We're almost there," I whisper, the reality of my total isolation crushing my chest. "Please..."
He bought me, he owned me, but looking at his broken body, I realize I’m the only one keeping him on this earth. He belongs to me now.
The robotic GPS voice breaks the silence in the cabin. "In two hundred feet, turn left onto the service road."
I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles rubbed raw and stinging with glass cuts.
I steer the battered, destroyed Mercedes straight into the pitch-black darkness of the industrial district, leaving the bright city lights and the distant wail of police sirens completely behind us.
As we near the desolate, shadow-drenched warehouses lining the river, I reach down and kill the car’s headlights, plunging us entirely into the dark.
I don't look back at the rearview mirror to see if Boris's men are still there.
"I've got you," I say to the unconscious warlord bleeding out next to me. "We're going to make it."
The world thinks Andrei Ignatov died in the snow tonight. They’re about to find out exactly how wrong they are.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Next Book: Anatomy of Fear.
RUBY
I dragged a dying Bratva king into an underground bunker and sealed the door behind us.
Now there is nowhere to run.
Andrei is wounded, paranoid, furious, and somehow even more dangerous without his empire surrounding him. Steel walls trap us together while his enemies tear apart everything aboveground, leaving me alone with the possessive bastard whose hands make fear taste disturbingly close to hunger.
Saving his life should have settled my debt.
Instead, I’m becoming addicted to the darkness between us.
Then his enemies drag me out of Andrei’s protection and discover I’m no longer the helpless woman who was sold in that room.
Loving a monster has taught me exactly how to become one.
ANDREI
Two bullets took my throne.
Ruby kept them from taking my life.
I wake inside my bunker stripped of power, surrounded by enemies, and dependent on the one woman capable of making me lose what remains of my control. She challenges every order. Pushes every boundary. Makes submission feel like something I need to earn with my hands wrapped around her.
Then she disappears from my protection.
The men responsible have made their final mistake.
I have survived bullets, betrayal, and the collapse of my empire. None of it compares to the violence Ruby’s absence unleashes in me.
I’m taking my woman back.
The city can choke on the bodies it costs me.