Series: Series by Ker Dukey
Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Adam isn’t going to like this,” Levi tells me, sounding almost pleased. “He knew she was shady as shit.”
“Knew she was shady as shit? Didn’t they just pull a body out of his trunk?” I retort, folding my arms.
“What the hell do you know about that?”
“I know it comes with hard time,” I taunt, taking deliberate steps toward him.
“You underestimate who you’re fucking with. Adam isn’t someone to be played.” He puffs his chest and his arm movements are animated.
I raise a finger and point it firmly at my chest. “Who I'm fucking with?” I lean my head forward slightly, my playful demeanor vanishing instantly, replaced by the cold, hard mask of violence I wear so well. The air around us grows tense, heavy with unspoken threats. “Do you know who you're fucking with?”
He takes a second and I see when the lightbulb goes on.
“You’re one of them,” he says with a twist of his lips. “The madmen.” He raises his eyebrows and emphasizes “madmen” in a mocking voice before pulling a gun from a holster in his jacket and aiming toward me. “Where the fuck is the other one? Your brother.”
My smile broadens and I nod my head over his shoulder. He flinches. It’s subtle, but I see it. Panic. He instinctively turns to glance over his shoulder, and in two strides, I close the distance between us. Seizing his wrist and bringing a palm down on his forearm, hard and quick, causing him to drop the gun. It clanks to the floor and skids out of reach.
He recovers quickly, lowering his head to launch a headbutt at me. But I’m expecting it. I've faced both brawlers and seasoned fighters before, and I can predict his moves with eerie accuracy. I sidestep just in time, fluidly weaving around his body, throwing jabs that are quick and controlled, not enough to inflict serious damage, just enough to unsettle him and assert my dominance. As he struggles to regain his footing, I seize the opportunity to send a powerful fist crashing toward his face. When blood starts to trickle from his nose, I feel the familiar thrill pulse through me like an electric current, but we've had enough blood to clean up in this place and don't need more.
In a quick motion, I twist my body and leap onto his back, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and head to secure my grip. My legs lock around his thighs, my feet hooking firmly in place to keep me anchored. He thrashes and kicks, desperate to shake me off as he gasps for air, but I hold on tightly, focused on maintaining the chokehold and ensuring that he goes the fuck to sleep. Dropping to his knees, he wheezes and bats at my arms to no avail until he falls back onto me and goes limp.
“Don’t kill him,” Alyona screeches as she races out of Roza’s room alone. “No more bodies, Z.”
“He’s sleeping, not dead,” I grunt, pushing the fat fuck off of me.
“Look who I found!” Rodion announces as he enters through the front door jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. His gaze lands on Levi, and he raises an eyebrow. “What did I miss?”
Impeccable timing per usual.
“Fucking finally. I’ve been waiting forever,” I mutter, rising to my feet and brushing myself off as I snatch the food bag from my brother’s grip. “I’m starving.”
“Why is Levi dead?” Vika says, coming in from behind Rodion. That’s who he found. An asshole.
“He’s not dead.” Alyona rolls her eyes and then frowns. “Why are you here?”
Vika places a hand on her chest and waves toward the door, her eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Someone was following me, and I didn’t know what to do, so...”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rodion
Rushing back through the front door, the sun beats down on my face as Zahkar bounds after me, his footsteps quickening on the grass. I dart across the lawn, ignoring the woman jogging past with her tiny dog, my heart pounding as I scan the street. Z’s hand lands firmly on my back, steadying me.
“Look over there,” he says, his voice low and steady, directing my attention to a white van parked one house up.
The driver sits inside, idling the engine, the window reflecting the sunlight and hiding his appearance from us as he watches our every move. Without thinking, I take off running toward the van, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Just as I reach the road, the driver slams the accelerator, and the van lurches forward, kicking up a cloud of dirt and gravel as he speeds past us, barely missing me.
“Motherfucker! Do you think he knows about Alyona?” I shout, glancing back at Z, my mind racing
“No, he followed Vika though, so he knows who she is. It’s only a matter of time. I got the plate number,” Z says, hurrying back inside and grabbing his phone.