Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ANTON
The gunshot comes as a sharp, muffled burst as I grab Thora and twist us hard, putting my body between her and the bullet.
But it’s too late. The svolich grazes my arm and speeds away, tires scraping hard against the pavement as I pull out my nine and fire a few rounds into his bumper, keeping my body in front of hers the entire time.
Blyat. The need to kill him hits before the pain does.
I should’ve been paying better attention to my damn surroundings like I’ve been taught instead of concentrating on the way she was pressed against me and how badly I wanted to fuck her right here against this damn wall.
“Anton, you’re shot!”
Blood slides toward my wrist, but I ignore it, instead pushing her into the wall until I know the car is gone. No plates, of course. Whoever that was, it had to have been a pro. A shitty one, but a pro nonetheless. Wouldn’t be the first time one of us had a hit on him. Unless…
Unless he was after her.
My first instinct is to get in my car and hunt him down, but then her small hand closes around my wrist and leaving her is no longer an option. Not when the only thing that matters is keeping her safe.
It could have been her. He could’ve shot Thora. She could’ve fucking died.
Everything inside me goes black, the urge to destroy whoever did this consuming every thought. I cup her cheek. Her face is pale, eyes huge and full of fear.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I look her up and down, not seeing any entry wounds, no blood except my own.
“I’m fine.” Her voice cracks. “We need to get you inside and have that wrapped before you go to the hospital.”
“I’m good.”
Her expression knots. “You’re not.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Irritation flashes in her eyes. “You were shot. That is the very definition of not fine.”
“It happens.”
A trace of dark satisfaction moves through me at the worry written across her face.
How much would she care if I died?
“It happens?” She tugs on my uninjured arm. “That is not an acceptable answer. Let’s get inside so I can stop the fucking bleeding, God damn it!”
My gaze scans the edge of the lot, every shadow and parked car, but there’s no one there this time.
My jaw locks as I return my focus to her. “What the hell were you thinking, trying to push me away so he could shoot you?”
Her face blanks. “It was instinct.”
“To sacrifice yourself for me?”
“Yes.” She shrugs.
I grab both sides of her face, fury entwining with obsession.
“Never. Do that. Again. I sacrifice myself for you, not the other way around.” My thumb brushes over her perfect lips.
“How about neither of us dies?” Her nails trail up and down my back. “I’m really enjoying this protective side of you, by the way. But maybe we can postpone it until you’re not actively bleeding on the concrete.”
“Good point.” I drop my arms off her. “Let me get you home.”
“Not until we get you bandaged up.” She takes my hand and starts trying to tug me toward the entrance.
When I don’t move, she gives me a hard stare.
“You’re losing blood. So it’s either I do it or I call 911. Your choice.”
“Fine, but make it quick.”
I let her pull me inside, even though I know my brothers are going to have questions. If it hadn’t been for the suppressors on the weapons and the music bleeding through the walls inside, they’d already be out here.
The second we reach the door, one of the guards heads straight for us.
“Everything okay? I heard noise outside.” Then he sees my arm and his face changes. “Blyat, chto sluchilos?” Fuck, what happened?
“Nichego.” Nothing.
I move farther inside, just as my brothers step out from the back room where they were conducting business before I left.
Konstantin takes in the wound, his face tightening. “Kto?” Who?
“I don’t know. Black sedan. Toyota. No plates.”
“Look, guys.” Thora cuts in, turning to Konstantin while pressing a palm to my wound as blood slips between her fingers. “You can all discuss this later. Right now, I need a first aid kit, towels, anything you have. Now.”
He nods and barks an order at the bartender, who scurries toward the back.
“After I stop the bleeding…” she says to my brothers, already popping the buttons of my shirt while I shrug it off. “He needs a doctor.”
“No doctor,” I tell her, looking down at the damage.
Not terrible. I’ll live.
Her head jerks up, eyes furious. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
My mouth twitches, but Konstantin turns to me, and I kill the almost-smile before it can get me into trouble.
“We will find out who did this,” Kirill says. “Is there anything else you saw? The color of his eyes, anything that might help?”
“I saw the car first,” she says, keeping pressure on my arm with my shirt, her fingers slick with my blood. “His eyes were brown, I think, but I was too far away to be sure.”
And just like that, I see it again. Thora stepping into the line of fire.
Anger builds in my chest as I lean toward her, ignoring my brothers while I peer into her eyes. “Never do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Never put yourself in harm’s way.”
Aleksei and Kirill exchange surprised glances, while Konstantin remains unreadable.
“Not this again.” She blows out a breath. “We already discussed this two minutes ago.”
“You’re a stubborn woman, so I want to make sure you hear me clearly.” I cup her jaw. “Do not ever try to take a bullet for me.”
She snickers. “Then don’t get shot next time.”
“I can’t guarantee that.”
“Well, therein lies the dilemma.” Her lips curve, and I want to kiss her so badly, it takes effort not to.
Aleksei chuckles from somewhere behind her. “Aww, look at that. Your first lovers’ spat.”
Thora and I turn to him at the same time. “We are not lovers.”
His grin widens. “I can’t decide which one of you is less convincing.”
“Well…” she mutters through clenched teeth, turning back to me. “At least we agree on something.”
She’s too cute when she’s angry.
Then I make the mistake of looking around and find all three of my brothers staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.
Chyort. Damn it. I should have kept my mouth shut.
The bartender returns with a first aid kit and a stack of towels, and I’m grateful for the distraction until Thora takes them and points toward the nearest stool.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine standing.”
“Sit down, Anton.”
Kirill makes a low whistling sound. “I like her.”
I glare at him as I lower onto the stool, and his smile only gets wider.
“What can I say, bratik? It’s nice to see you obey someone half your size.”
“Zamolchi,” I tell him. Shut up.
Thora doesn’t even turn toward him. “You can like me after you help me keep his arm still, because this is gonna hurt.”
Kirill looks delighted, probably because he wants payback for the last time I kicked his ass while sparring.
And Konstantin? He continues to look at me, the wheels turning in his head.
Shit. This is bad. This is really fucking bad.