Page 45 of Sinful Lord

“Perhaps we do,” Lothar teases. “But what would we receive in return for that information?”

That piques my interest.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not sure you have anything to give us.”

“Then why did you agree to meet me?”

Lothar just shrugs. “My associate seemed desperate to get rid of you. I offered to do her dirty work.”

My clenched fists immediately unfurl.

I’m already reaching for my gun when I see the weapons flash out from behind Fritz and Sepp.

The rest of their crew quickly follow suit.

“Fuck,” I curse, lunging out of the way just as the first bullet rushes through the frigid air.

It’s a fucking ambush.

My gun is out before my shoulder hits the ground. Snow upends around me as I fire back into the crowd. I immediately hit someone in the shoulder, then someone else cries out in pain as they get a bullet to the stomach.

Somehow, I manage to avoid getting tagged as I scramble back onto my feet. Up ahead, I see my only chance to get some cover. A flimsy-looking window covered in bright graffiti. I barge forward, barely outpacing the gunfire.

When I get close enough, I lower my gun, close my eyes, and burst through the glass. It shatters around me as I’m propelled into a sliver of safety.

“There’s no way out,” Lothar booms, his crew’s bullets following me into the dark, damp warehouse room. “Your grave is in Berlin.”

“We’ll fucking see about that,” I growl. Dipping behind the sturdy brick wall, I reload my gun, then pull out my second Glock.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Sepp taunts. He’s trying to scare me, but really he’s just sealed his own fate.

The fucker’s creepy voice gives away his position. I barely even have to peek over the shattered window to know where he is. Still, I make sure I get a good view before I shoot, just so I can see the fucker’s head explode.

“Fuck!” Fritz shouts, as his friend’s headless corpse collapses beside him. “Fucking get the bastard!”

The hellfire increases as I slip back down behind the brick wall and reload again.

“Yasha, you fucking bitch,” I grumble. Looking around, I search for a way out of the trap she set for me. But it looks like I’ve just crashed into my own tomb. Everything is already sealed off.

“You aren’t getting off that easy,” I huff. Placing one of my guns on the floor, I let the bullets rain over my head as I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.

That’s when I see the blood on my hands.

Fucking hell.

I quickly find the source, a slice over the back of my hand. I must have been grazed by a bullet.

The sight fills me with even more fury.

I’ve dealt with enough bullet wounds to know that this shit is going to leave a scar. And that means, in a roundabout way, Yasha has marked me.

She didn’t have any fucking right.

My bloody hand swipes through my phone’s video folders as I search for the blackmail that will be my retribution. Every swipe fills the screen with more blood, but I know when I’ve found it.

The scene is unmistakable.