Page 49 of Forced By the Bratva King
Before I could think of a better delivery, the words jumped out, prompted by Artem’s harsh tone. “Because he’s my father!”
Artem’s shoulders dropped in absolute shock, and his eyes grew dim, like the fire in them had been snuffed out.
“Niall Donovan is my father, and there’s no way he ordered that man to kill me.” I swallowed hard, watching the monster take control of my husband’s body as he glared at me with gritted teeth.
I had finally said it; the cat was out of the bag, at last, and my body felt like it might collapse under the weight of his glower. I wondered what Artem Tarasov would do to me now.
Chapter 20 – Artem
I was the one at the wheel this time, driving at super speed and allowing rage to fuel my thoughts. Yuri was in the front passenger seat, cocking and double checking his gun. He’d wanted to drive as usual, but I was too mad to let him; it was almost like he wouldn’t drive at the speed that I wanted.
Through the side mirror, I could see the other vehicles speed up behind me; my men were ready for this war, and for Donovan’s sake, I hoped that he was, as well. I’d hate to kill a defenseless man, but either way, he was already dead.
Like a bullet from a gun, my car burst through the door, knocking it down completely as we invaded Donovan’s warehouse, the Irish hideout. I’d known about their location for a long time now but had decided not to ambush them, even though none of this would have happened if I had done this earlier. Countless times, I’d had the chance to kill that bastard but didn’t.
No more mercy. He wasn’t going to get away with this one.
Our ambush stirred up heavy gunfire as the enemies, caught off guard, attempted a defense against our attack. Cars screeched to a halt, and my men alighted like commandos from a Hollywood movie.
Gunshots filled the air, and bodies dropped at the pelting bullets that knocked down anyone and anything in the paths.
I stepped out of the vehicle amidst the chaos, fuming profusely as my men slaughtered the Irish. I saw Donovan hiding behind a flipped-over table. Coward.
An idiot attacked me, shooting in my direction, but with lightning speed, I dodged his bullets and watched him marvel at how it was possible. His eyes widened with fearas I approached him now that his gun was clicking empty. I thought he’d be smart enough to run, considering how angry I was, but then again, he was fucking Irish, a mindless animal. The idiot lunged at me with a series of punches, his hands a rapid blur of movements, all of which I deflected. Retaliating with an uppercut and a blow underneath his jaw, the attacker rose into the air and crashed onto a wooden table, which broke under his weight.
I heard a battle cry behind me, and without turning, I sidestepped, avoiding the machete meant for the back of my skull. This other Irishman swung his weapon a couple of times before I trapped his hand in mine and snapped it like a dry log. He screamed in pain, and I swung him across the space.
Another came at me, but Yuri gunned him down before he could make any advances. Yuri nodded at me and returned to killing those bastards.
“Donovan!” I called out, my voice loud and threatening, filled with rage. “Come out and face me, you son of a bitch!” I walked toward the table he was hiding behind, balling one hand into a fist with my gun in the other.
Jacob rushed at me from the side, but Yuri speared into him, their bodies colliding mid-air before they both crashed to the ground. Soon, blows and kicks were exchanged as Yuri kept him busy while I dealt with his boss.
“What’s the meaning of this, Artem Tarasov?” Donovan stepped out from his hiding place, confusion coloring his eyes as he watched my men lay waste to his people.
I was tempted to just shoot the fucker in the face, but not yet. I wanted to make him suffer first.
Tucking my gun away, I came at him with blows—heavy blows that he couldn’t dodge. My fists rammed into his face without leaving any room for retaliation. Each strike pushedhim at least one step backward. The impact of my knuckles against his skin and his bones caused him to bleed.
He attempted to fight back, but my blows had disoriented him already, and now he wasn’t focused enough to throw a single punch. Yet, I wouldn’t stop throwing mine, and unlike him, I wouldn’t miss.
Both of my knuckles were covered in his blood, and the thoughts of what would have happened to my wife if I had arrived a minute later fueled my anger.
I grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head up, bashing my knee against his nose a couple of times before flinging him off like a rat.
He crashed onto the dusty floor, too weak to stand as he coughed, wheezing and straining to breathe. By now, the shootings had stopped, and my men had completely taken over. A lot of his men were dead, but the remaining ones were smart enough to surrender.
“How does it feel to be powerless?” I walked over to him as he dragged himself toward a gun lying a couple of paces away from him.
He grabbed the gun, but I stepped on his hand before he could use it, my boots crushing his fingers. Niall wailed, revealing the blood that filled his mouth, painting his teeth red.
“Why?” he asked, looking up at me. “Why do this?”
I squatted over him. “Because you attacked my wife. My wife, Donovan!” I trampled upon his face and kicked his chest, his stomach, his legs, and anywhere my foot could hit.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Artem,” he groaned, spitting out blood.
“Have the decency to fess up,” I said, frowning at his cowardice. “You fucked up, Donovan—you fucked up when you sent an assassin to kill my wife.” I withdrew my gun andpointed it at him. “I can’t look the other way when you clearly have no boundaries.”