Page 67 of Twisted Tyrant


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LUKA

I can kill Dima.

Right here, right now.

I can plunge the knife into his throat, watch him suffer as life drains from his body.

The petrified look on Dima’s face tells me that he knows it, too.

His Adam’s apple bobs against the steel, and he struggles for breath, careful not to jolt against the threatening tip.

“Beg me not to do it.” My pulse hammers so hard, I can barely spit out the words.

But even as I say them, I know I can’t fix what he's already done, not only to me, but to Valentina and to Christ only knows who else in my family.

Dima has loyalty to power, not blood.

Spittle flies out of the corner of his mouth, his breaths shallow and sharp. “Fuck you, Luka. I’m the only one who knows the truth. You can’t kill me,” he rasps.

My narrowed gaze tangles with Natasha’s wide-eyed one just as Dmitri’s obnoxious accent rings between my ears.

“Where the fuck is she, Dima?” He shoves his way into our corner. “Don’t think that because Valentina bolted that this changes anything between us. You’re gonna make good on this deal, either with pussy or a shit ton of cash, otherwise my father will–”

Crack! Pop! Bang!

Piercing screams shatter the air, and I dive on top of Natasha, tackling her to the ground face-first at the same time that Dima takes cover behind the column. Alone.

Self-absorbed prick.

I cover her with my body and drop the knife before pulling out the gun hidden in my ankle strap. Bullets explode into the air, and I lift my head to search for a source of the shots.

Instead, I see my whole family scatter around the foyer except for the one person I’d have gladly watched take one, or all, of the bullets fired.

Natasha tries to twist away from the floor. “Dad,” she yelps.

I keep my arms wrapped around her trembling body, not wanting to ever let go. But Val is missing and this whole place is under attack. I have to leave Natasha, a realization I still haven’t come to terms with.

“Keep her here,” I say to Dima, who is still hovering behind the column. “I’m going after the shooter.”

“No!” Natasha gasps. “Please don’t leave me!”

I catch the grimace that twists Dima’s mouth at Natasha’s outburst.

I glower at him. “Do you have a gun?”

He gives a swift nod and pulls it out.

Pop! Crack! Boom!

More screams.

More cries for help.

More pleas to God.

“I have to go.” I pull her up from the floor and push her into the corner next to Dima. Tears pool in her eyes when I stroke the side of her face. She presses her palm against my hand, and steam practically pours from Dima’s ears.

My parents run toward us. Nikolai huddles them together as they dodge bodies splayed on the floor around them. Dima slowly rises to his feet, still making sure he’s shielded by the column.

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