Page 43 of Forced Mafia Bride

“We’re playing the offensive.”

“Fuck, yes!”

Like me, he maintained his composure, sticking one hand in the pocket of his pants as he gunned down one…two, threemen. Only bringing out the fist when necessity demanded that he lay a punch.

I refilled my magazine and laid two bullets in one man who thought he was big enough to swing a fist at my jaw. The fist connected, but I swung an arm, knocked him out, and made sure he never saw the light of the day again. Eager to march inside the building, I advanced forward toward the entrance, shooting down every man who was nothing but a hindrance and leaving the fight behind for Anatoly and the other men to handle. I’d barely gotten to the entrance when Ronan emerged through the screen doors, aiming a gun at my head. Aiden followed after him but made a motion with his hand, signaling that he was going to make himself scarce from the scene.

The hate in his eyes screamed no mercy, and I knew he was going to pull the trigger.

I swerved to the right, just in time to dodge the bullet that went flying out of his gun. The loud gunfire echoed in the empty lot, mingling with the grunts and angry yells coming from the men behind us.

“Lucky shot,” I called out.

His bushy brows dipped below the center of his forehead in fierce concentration, and his finger went down on the trigger again and again as he advanced forward like a robot programmed for destruction.

Ronan fired at will, on instinct, like a madman.

Unknown to him, that worked to my advantage.

Mentally, I did a countdown as the empty shells hit the floor.

Three.

Two.

One.

He ran out of bullets, and I tucked back my gun, grinning as we hastened our steps, ready for a clash.

If he wanted to go down hard, it would be my pleasure to grant his fucking wish.

“Fucking bastard!” he screeched, eyes reddened with a vicious rage. Ready to burn, ready to destroy. “You thought you’d won, didn’t you? You thought you’d done something epic, swooping in to save that fucking bitch and humiliating me. Well, I’m pleased to tell you that I’m standing right here, and it’s going to take forever before you ever get me to fall.”

I shrugged off my jacket, letting it fall to the ground, and pushed up my sleeves before he got within close range. He assumed a stance, a weak one, bringing his folded fists up to his nose, straining the thick sleeves of his dark green jacket before throwing a punch. The days of tedious boxing lessons I’d had with Timur and my brother rushed back to me, every technique, stroke, and skill, but I’d predicted that Ronan would be sloppy, and he didn’t disappoint.

I caught his fist in the air and twisted his arm behind his back, all the way up his spine to the junction between his shoulders. His loud cry of anguish made most heads turn in the lot, but I wasn’t done with him. I pushed his arm higher and pressed his back to my chest, smiling at the pain in his voice as he growled.

Moving my lips to his ear, I whispered, “Forever?” I chuckled. “You flatter yourself, Ronan. This is going to be a lot easier than I thought. I need less than sixty seconds to bring you down to your fucking knees.”

Another nudge of his arm up his back wobbled his knees and caused a burst of crimson to spread all over his face. “Ggrr…God—fuck.”

I clenched my teeth. “And the next time you call her a bitch, I swear you’ll eat your fucking tongue for lunch.”

I spun him around, barely giving him time to spit a comeback, and connected my fist with his face. I heard a sickening crunch. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he collapsed like a dead tree to the floor.

“Fucking pathetic.” I brought out my gun to finish off the fucking nuisance, once and for all, when a blood-curdling scream rang out—one that was not Ronan’s. It was female, and the agony in that scream ripped through my heart like a fruit shredder. I fixed the gun back between my belt.

“Rosalyn.”

I might have busted through the entrance, jogged down the hallway, or practically ran all the way for all I fucking cared. I traced her screams, running frantically in search of the room it came from.

Her shouts got louder, my feet moved faster, and I barged into the first room that seemed like the one I was looking for. A doctor with silver hair stood by the bed, holding her while a nurse stayed on the opposite side, a needle glinting under the rich orange ray of the setting sun positioned on her arm. They looked back at the door, and the nurse’s hands went limp. The size of her eyeballs enlarged comically, and the syringe clattered on the floor.

Doctor—I flashed a glance to his name tag—Keith’s eyes moved from my bruised knuckles and back to my face, and he backed away, the color draining from his face every step he took.

“Mr. Yez—”

“Get the fuck out of here now. ALL OF YOU!”