32. Lexi
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
LEXI
Everything unfolds in the blink of an eye. The sharp crack reverberates through the air, and time seems to stand still.
My gaze quickly finds Valentin, his eyes flashing with terror.
Blood splatters across my face, and my stomach knots. Crimson stains my fingers as I wipe the blood away from my eyes. I exhale, a wave of relief washing over me as I come to the startling realization I haven’t been shot.
“Lexi!” Valentin lunges toward me, positioning his body to shield mine.
“I’m not shot,” I assure him, catching my breath.
“Are you okay?” he presses, his hands frantically checking me over for any signs of injury.
“It’s not my blood,” I affirm, steadying my voice.
Resting his forehead against mine, and with panic lacing his words, he whispers, “I’m so sorry.” He brushes his lips against my skin. “I’m so sorry. Shit, I never wanted you to be caught up in this mess.” He quickly unties my wrists, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him close.
I obviously should be furious with him for dragging me into this trauma, bringing back memories of that fateful night when I met Petrov. However, the instant the gunshot pierced my ears, my thoughts were solely consumed by him and the depth of my love for him.
A shot rings from the distance, followed by another, and then yet another. Shouts fill the air.
I turn toward the noise and spot Nikolai Savin, weapon raised, firing at Petrov’s men. Beside him stands my friend Ivy. From the sound of the barrage of bullets, they must have brought the entire Bratva Army with them.
“Fuck!” Petrov drops to the ground, a sharp cry escaping his lips as he snatches his gun and bolts from the room.
Valentin’s eyes flash with something cold, something sharp. “Petrov!” he snarls, bolting after him through the darkened warehouse, weapon gripped tightly in his hand.
I prepare to follow him, but Elise grabs my arm tightly, pulling me away from Valentin. Her eyes are filled with panic, and she breathes in quick, uneven gasps. “We need to hide,” she says, looking around wildly.
I shake off her grip. “Please,” she pleads, and for the first time in a long time, I see my big sister again. I nod and run behind her.
We sprint past Nikolai and Ivy, running over a corpse to take cover behind Valentins’ vehicle. Elise shields me as I duck low, covering my head with her arms.
Nikolai’s army unleashes a fierce barrage of gunfire against Petrov’s men. The deafening noise of bullets whizzing through the air matches the frantic pounding of my heart, drowning out everything else.
Out of nowhere, a silence blankets the room.
My ears are still throbbing from the last round of gunfire, every nerve on edge, eagerly anticipating the next shot. But the warehouse now stands unnervingly still.
The acrid odor of gunpowder, mingled with the metallic scent of blood and the pall of death, hangs heavy in the air. “All clear,” one of Nikolai’s soldiers shouts, breaking the tense silence.
“Elise,” Ivy shouts, scanning the area for us.
We step out from behind the vehicle, my heart racing with fear.
“I was so scared,” Ivy cries, rushing over to wrap her arms around us. “This wasn’t your best plan!” She rolls her eyes at Elise, who acknowledges the truth with a taciturn nod.
Bratva soldiers sift through the bodies strewn about, searching for any residual signs of life.
Nikolai appears, wiping blood from his brow. “Where the fuck is Valentin?”
I wipe more blood from my face, blinking rapidly, glancing around the room. A few final bursts come from the far side of the warehouse, and I realize it could be Valentin.
Instinctively, I find myself running toward the gunfire, hearing the shouts and screams of various voices, but none of them are his. “Alexis!” Elise cries out, but I block her out, too desperate to find Valentin.
I dash through the scene, bullet holes marking the walls, bodies scattered across the floor. My heart races as I examine each lifeless figure, desperately searching for him. Tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision as I push through the chaos.
“Valentin,” I choke out. “Valentin.”
Then another round of gunfire erupts, and my eyes flash with terror as I advance toward the noise with measured steps. I can hear a man groaning, his voice trembling with fear. Valentin. His name strangles me, trying to rip free.
I turn the corner and find myself staring at the barrel of a gun. “Petrov,” I gasp, my breath coming in short, frantic bursts.
“I knew you were a little fucking cunt the moment I saw you,” he sneers, his knuckles whitening as he prepares to fire. “My only regret is not fucking you and leaving you for dead that night,” he snorts.
“Please, don’t do this,” I pray, my hands lifted in surrender, desperate to save my life.
Valentin races around the corner, almost crashing into me.
He grabs my arm and tugs me behind him, our fingers intertwined as he positions himself defensively between me and the gun barrel aimed my way.
“Your fight is with me and the Savins, Petrov. Leave her out of this,” he pleads, his voice filled with desperate hope.
“You’ve lost your killer instinct, old man. Back in the day, you wouldn’t have blinked before thinking about killing her,” Petrov responds, tauntingly.
But Valentin stands firm. “I love her,” he declares, his grip on my hand tightening as if it alone can protect me.
My heart rate spikes at his words, and by the time he says them again, it’s racing. There’s energy in the air, like static electricity that clings to my skin.
“I love her,” he whispers again, turning his head slightly to make sure I hear him. “If you want to fuck the Bratva, then kill a Brigadier, not her!” he roars defiantly, and in that moment, he releases my hand.
I nestle into him, kissing the back of his neck, my hands sliding against his waist. That’s when I notice the gun. I seize it, pulling it from the back of his pants and unclipping the safety. But it’s too late.
“You’re such a disappointment. You should have retired while you had the chance,” Petrov hisses, his voice thick with malice, and then he pulls the trigger.
The bullet flies toward us in slow motion, although I know it’s racing through the air. I hold my breath, feeling as if I might suffocate. I can’t let anything happen to Valentin. I have to save him.
I launch myself around Valentin just as the bullet strikes his chest with brutal force.
My breath hitches, and I watch him crumple to the ground, caught in a painful clash of horror and heartbreak.
I stare up at Petrov, gun pointed at me, and he pulls the trigger. There’s a click, but I’m still alive. He’s run out of bullets.
Then, a hail of bullets pummels Petrov with full force, the bullets tearing his skin apart, blood and body tissue flying everywhere. I stand over him, his face between my feet, and point the gun at him at close range as he lies there, his eyes almost lifeless, moaning.
I feel a hand close around mine, tugging the gun away. “You can’t have all the fun,” Elise snickers.
Now armed, Elise kneels, aiming the barrel directly at Petrov’s forehead. “No one fucks with the Walsh sisters,” she growls, then pulls the trigger.
“Valentin!” I desperately cry out. My heart pounds in my chest, pleading for him to stay alive. I sink to the ground, holding him tightly, as if my very breath could be the lifeline that saves him.
He fights to lift his eyelids, his voice a weak whisper. “I love you, Krasotka.”
“Please, stay with me,” I plead, my hand trembling as it rests against his heart. “I need you.”
For just a moment, his eyes flutter open, and a faint smile graces his lips. “I love you.” Finally, his eyes close in darkness.
“Valentin!” I scream, shaking him desperately, but there’s only silence. The world around me spins, and then everything begins to fade to black around the crimson.
My hands shake as my fingers graze his skin. He’s still warm. He has to be alive. Please, be alive.
Valentin’s body lies beside me, the blood seeping into the concrete.
“Alexis,” Elise urges, taking my arm and gently pulling me away from him.
My stomach knots, and I struggle to catch my breath. “No,” I call out, gripping him tightly. I won’t let him go.
“Get her out of here,” Nikolai orders, his voice hoarse.
This time, strong arms wrap around me, dragging me away from Valentin’s lifeless form. I struggle fiercely to return to him, but the grip is stubborn, pulling me further away.
Nikolai breathes out, and a sharp pain flickers in his face. He kneels beside Valentin, his expression grim, eyes cutting through the dark in search of movement.
I hardly notice everyone around me. The haunting image of Valentin traps my thoughts, seeing him sprawled in a pool of blood.
Time starts to lose its meaning, each second stretching endlessly as I stand by the vehicles.
Lev remains steadfast by my side, guarding me as if my safety is now the very essence of his existence.
“It’s time to go!” Nikolai orders, and the soldiers move quickly.
Elise nods, her eyes filled with sadness. She wraps her arms around me. “I’m sorry, Alexis,” she says, her voice breaking with grief.
Her declaration serves as the ultimate determination that Valentin is indeed dead.
She gently kisses my temple. “This was my fault. This was my plan to draw out Petrov.”
The pressure bearing down on me is suffocating, like a hammer striking my chest. The room swirls around me, and the air feels heavy. For an instant, I can’t catch my breath, swallowing hard, nausea surging within me. “What do I do now?”
My throat constricts as my entire world collapses—slowly, agonizingly.
Elise clasps my cheeks, smoothing away all my tears as best she can, though for each one she wipes away, a thousand more come cascading.
“All those men are now under your command. That’s the Brigadier’s order.” She turns my head, directing my attention to Lev and his group of men. “Lev will escort you to the loft. I’ll join you there as soon as I finish up here.”
She steps away, glancing back at me for a brief moment. “I promise you’ll be safe. I’ll call your friends to meet you there.”
Lev places his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you home now, Lexi.”
I step into the vehicle, and Lev follows, sliding into the passenger seat beside me while nodding at the driver.
He places his hand quietly on my knee, avoiding my gaze. “I’m sorry for before,” he says, and his voice trembles. “For throwing you out of the warehouse.”
Why is he bringing this up now?
“Valentin loved you, and he pushed you away because he didn’t want you near Petrov when all this went down.”
The weight of his words settles heavily in my heart. They were both trying to protect me.
He gives my knee a reassuring pat and gazes out the window, but I can sense the muffled sorrow in his throat, as he too is mourning the loss of his friend.
As we drive away from the decimated warehouse, I catch a disheartening glimpse of bodies being dragged out. I flinch away, not wanting to see Valentin lying there, dead.
I rest my head back against the seat, letting my eyes close for a moment.
A tumult of conflicting emotions swirls in my chest—anger, heartbreak, and a hint of relief—yet heartbreak reigns supreme.
Softly, I instinctively trace the intricate design of the tattoo that wraps around my neck, and whisper into nothing, “I love you, too,” hoping the words will somehow reach him, wherever he is.