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Instead, his pale-blue eyes scrutinize me with a level of hostility that seems a bit extreme considering he doesn’t know me from the next man on the street. “Or what?” he taunts. “You gonna threaten me like your friend here? Think you can take me?”
I bite back a snort. The guy’s fit—bigger than Viktor, though in a more compact frame—but I could take him with my eyes closed and a hand tied behind my back. The bigger question is whether I can take him and his four friends. Because we’re outnumbered, and with Malik swaying on his feet, I doubt he’ll be much help in this fight.
“Nah, we don’t want a fight, man. Just step aside so we can catch our ride,” I say, trying for reasonable, when it seems like everyone else in this whole damn world has lost their minds.
But the conversation has now officially gained the interest of the towhead’s buddies, and none of them look particularly interested in getting out of the way.
“Make me,” the blond challenges.
And because Viktor’s too amped up on amphetamines and the adrenaline of killing five men and fucking a few girls tonight, that’s like an open dinner invitation. He’s not going to say no.
“You wanna fight, Goldilocks?” Viktor demands, and without waiting for a response, he launches his fist at the blond.
The guy beside him is ready, and before the punch can land, he grabs Viktor’s hand. Shoving him backward in the next second, he squares up with the Sakharov heir, seeming oblivious to who he just decided to take on.
“How about you back the hell up?” I growl, going to separate them.
But the blond isn’t having it. “What, are you his guard dog?” he asks, shoving me before I can stop Viktor from tackling the man in front of him.
“What’s your problem?” I demand, pushing him back.
And now it’s a real fight as he swings at me. At the same time, another of the guys tackles Malik, bringing him to the sidewalk. A second guy tries to get behind Viktor, and while I have the towhead’s throat in one hand, I grab the other guy’s hair, smashing his face into my knee before he even sees me coming.
Howling in pain, the guy collapses, blood and teeth spewing between his hands clasped over his mouth. By the time I turn my attention back to the blond, he’s launching an uppercut at my chin.
My head snaps back, and I deserve the bone-jarring repercussion of leaving myself exposed. It’s a hard enough hit that my grasp loosens around his throat, and I stumble back, shaking my head to try and stop the ringing in my ears.
“How can you live with yourself?” the blond asks, his fists raised and his sneer spreading as we square up again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand, blocking his punch and tossing him roughly across the sidewalk.
He slams into the side of the building but quickly regains his feet. As I stalk toward him, ready to put him down, he stands to his full height, bringing his fists back up.
“How can you live with yourself, working with the enemy who destroyed your Bratva?” he hisses.
And the question blindsides me so completely, I fail to dodge his punch. He’s on top of me in a flash—faster than a guy his size should be capable of moving—as I hit the sidewalk. Stunned by the sudden shift in gravity, it’s all I can do to raise my arms in defense, covering my face as he rains blows down upon me.
“What? Is that all you got?” he bellows, vitriol dripping from his voice. Then more quietly, he hisses, “Your brother would be ashamed to see the whipped dog you’ve become.”
His words blast a hole through me, sucking the air from my lungs. The mention of my brother is a low blow, and one I can’t ignore. Who is this guy, and how does he know so much about me? Before I’ve thought through the wisdom of it, I lower my arms. “How the f?—”
By the time I see the next blow coming, it’s too late. Brilliant fireworks burst behind my eyes, releasing with it an explosive pain, then suddenly, everything goes dark.
7
ALINA
None of my father’s guards come to check the alley as I roll slowly down it, headlights off to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. I release the air trapped in my lungs only after I reach the end of the dark passageway and pull out onto the main street.
With a smile, I flick on the Audi’s headlights and drive toward Katie’s apartment. Before Mishka, I rarely broke the rules. I never dared to sneak out of my father’s house. But now, I feel like I’m becoming a pro at it.
Probably not something I should be proud of, considering the man I’ve been sneaking out for so much has proven untrustworthy. Even as I think it, my mind brings forward Mishka’s devastated eyes, the soft sound of his deep voice as he begged me to forgive him. To give him a second chance.
God, I want to. But how can I? How can I trust a man who wants my father dead?
Still, in the back of my mind, I realize I can’t ignore the fact that Mishka saved my life despite how he feels about my family. That should say something in his defense. But is it enough? He was still capable of pulling a gun on my father, so while I think I can trust him with my life, I can’t be sure of much else beyond that.
This is why I’m going to see Katie. Because I’m so twisted up with emotions that I don’t trust myself to make the right decision. And whatever I decide tonight—this truly is a life or death choice. The thought twists inside me like a knife. Shoving thoughts of Mishka aside, I try to focus on my driving.
