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Radu displays an evil smile, his teeth glistening in the dull light. "We’ll see about that."
Without warning, the Romanians pounce. I brace myself, but the onslaught is swift and brutal. They deliver blows to my face, my ribs, trying to break me. I struggle, attempting to break free, but it's useless. The pain is overwhelming, and I grunt with each hit, trying to keep consciousness.
As they swarm me, adrenaline courses through my veins, temporarily dulling the sharp pain of my wound. Every ounce oftraining I've ever received kicks in. I'm a wild animal, cornered, desperate, and ready to strike back.
The first one lunges at me again, thinking he can use his sheer size to overpower me. I move quickly, dodging to the side, letting him run straight into a wall. He's momentarily stunned, and I use that to my advantage, delivering a vicious right hook to his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Another one attempts to come at me from behind, but I spin around, elbowing him square in the face. He staggers back, blood pouring from his nose. The room is a chaotic flurry of flying fists, grunts, and shouts.
One by one, I fend them off. I throw quick jabs, uppercuts, dodging their punches with expert skill. My body moves almost on instinct. My brain registers danger, and I react. Every punch I throw is with the thought of Ana's safety. I need to get out of here to protect her.
A third thug thinks he has the upper hand, charging at me with a knife. But I catch his wrist in a vicelike grip and twist, the blade clattering harmlessly to the floor. Before he can react, I land a solid blow to his temple, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.
But as more of them continue to approach, I realize the odds are greatly stacked against me. I can feel my stamina waning, each breath more ragged than the last. Every punch I throw carries with it a little less power. I'm outnumbered, and time isn't on my side.
The guard outside sees an opportunity. He'd been watching, waiting for the perfect moment to join the fray. With a sick grin, he zeroes in on my wound, taking a running start and driving his fist right into the tender flesh.
The pain is an explosion, white-hot and blinding. It robs me of breath, of strength. My legs wobble, and despite my best efforts, I find myself on my knees, gasping for breath.
"Got him!" one of them shouts triumphantly, and the rest are on me again. It takes a dozen of them, maybe more, to finally subdue me. Some pin my arms, others my legs, effectively immobilizing me.
Panting and furious, I glare up at Radu. "You'll pay for this," I growl through gritted teeth.
He just smirks, looking down at me with a mix of amusement and pity. "That remains to be seen."
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, they stop. My vision is blurry, and blood drips from my nose and mouth. My wound is torn open, blood seeping through my shirt. Radu stands over me, a triumphant look on his face.
"You see, Samuil? You're not in control here."
He pauses, letting the words sink in. "Now, let's talk about Anastasia, shall we?"
Chapter 20
Anastasia
"You look miles away. What's on your mind?"
Viktor gives me a sidelong glance, his eyes squinting a bit.
"Huh?" I snap back to the present, shaking my head slightly as if to clear it. Viktor is being released from the hospital today. He looks so much better and he’s healing at a much faster pace than the doctors expected. It’s his fighter’s spirit, I believe. His color is better, the dark bruises have faded to faint yellowish patches, and his energy is returning. Both eyes are now open, though still blackened. "Oh, just... things," I say, attempting to wave off his question.
He snorts, a hint of the old Viktor shining through. "You were always a terrible liar, Ana. Remember when we were kids and you’d always sneak one pirozhki too many, then try to hide the fact that you'd eaten them? Jam all over your face, crumbs on your shirt, but you swore up and down that it wasn't you." He chuckles at the memory.
I can't help but laugh too, recalling the absurdity of little me, thinking I'd fooled him. "I was five, and those pirozhki were really good!"
His smile fades a bit, replaced by a more serious expression. "You seem distant today. What's going on?"
I hesitate, biting my lip. I've always been open with Viktor, but the complications of my feelings for Samuil have made things tricky. Add in the current danger and the treachery, and it feels like an explosive combination.
"The last time we spoke, things got intense between Samuil and me," I admit cautiously. My face heats up, the memory of our last intimate moment together playing in my mind. I can still feel the heat of his touch, hear the intensity in his voice.
Viktor's eyes narrow slightly, sensing there's more to the story. "And?"
"I haven't heard from him since early this morning. It's not like him," I say, my voice filled with worry.
My brother shifts uncomfortably in the bed, picking up on my anxiety. "Maybe he's just busy. You know how things are with the Bratva. We can't always be in touch."
"Maybe, but I’m worried. My instincts are telling me something's off.”
