Page 61 of Savage Pakhan

“Okay. Enough fucking around.” I run to the closet, swinging the door open.

Clothes I never really wear here hang to block the hidden room. I press my hand against the wall, the built-in scanner reading my palm. The door slides open, revealing a room made of mostly steel.

There’s no chance anyone will get in this room. The lights turn on, showing two bunkbeds to the side, a bathroom to the right, clothes, and bins full of nonperishable foods.

She’ll be safe here.

Pressing my hand on her back, I shove her inside. She stumbles forward, catching herself on bedpost. Mia spins around, her knuckles white from clutching the sheets so tight.

“Come back to me.”

I press the button to the door, and it slides closed. “I promise,” I say before it shuts her in, keeping her safe until I can deal with the threat.

I step back, swallowing the emotion in my throat, my eyes burning with the slight fear that I might not be able to pull her out of that room.

That isn’t an option. She’s mine to protect.

And I’ll protect her until death.

I inch my way out of the closet, eyeing my clothes to see if they look out of place. There’s no way anyone can get in that panic room. Nikolai will fill her. She’ll be okay.

Pressing my back against the wall, I hold the gun up, peering at the TV to see where the intruders are. The two men aren’t masked which means they’re coming to kill or abduct. Still, abducting with no mask doesn’t promise life either.

They’re coming up the basement steps, slow, making no noise. Whoever Ivan hired, they are good, but I know better. They’re messy. Breaking a window? That creates so much noise. I have the advantage knowing where they are.

A silent alarm has been tripped because of the window. Nikolai will be alerted, and he will be on his way. No police. Only my second in command. He’ll help me with the bodies.

I hurry down the staircase to the living room, not waiting for them to find me. I’m going to them.

No one threatens Mia and lives to get away with it.

I don’t give a fuck who it is.

Standing in the hallway between the kitchen and basement door, I lift the gun and aim it. The doorknob turns. The hinges groan.

Right when I can see the first stranger, I pull the trigger. I’m not waiting for answers. Waiting is what gets people killed and I don’t plan to die.

The bullet lands in the middle of his forehead, his neck snapping back. Blood sprays from the wound and paints my walls, fucking ruining them.

I’ll have to paint over that.

The body crashes onto the staircase and the second man, presses his back against the wall. We both watch the dead man rolling down each step with a hard thud. His face smacks first against the cold concrete floor, the majority of his body lying on the stairwell.

His friend looks down at him, then up at me, a thick scar running through his eyebrow. His right eye if half hooded from the injury. He lifts his gun and I lunge forward, smacking his hand with mine. Both of our weapons go flying, bullets peppering the wall, coating us in dust.

He tackles me to the floor, and we slide past the fridge. Having to be quick before he gets a hit in, I grip the edge of the refrigerator door, swing it open with all my strength, and smack him in the back of the head.

Once.

Twice.

A dent shows in the stainless steel. It weakens him enough for me to get the upper hand. I slam my forehead against the bridge of his nose, blood gushing down his lips.

Rolling him to his back, I raise my fist to punch him, but he slams his palm against my sternum. It knocks the birth out of me. A burning pain spreads across my chest, and I can’t breathe. My hands naturally grip my chest, hoping it helps in some way.

I gasp, in and out, and this fucking guy takes the opportunity to get the upper hand. He shoves me off him, lifts his leg, and kicks me in the stomach.

I’m on the floor, coughing, spit dripping from my mouth.