The Bratva's Bride (Wicked Doms 2)

“Let me!” Larissa is beside me, shoving me out of the way.

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. I don’t want her on the fucking field like this, but I do need her now.

“You need me and you know it,” she mutters, her little tongue sticking out adorably while she picks the lock.

I do.

Goddamn it, I do.

They’re coming closer. Tree limbs snap and gunshots ring, just as the lock falls open and she shoves the door open with glee. We run inside, shutting the door to give us another moment to rescue Maksym while our cover holds them off.

Oh, God. Bile rises in my throat at the sight of the man I call brother, naked and abused, lying on the floor of this cell. His eyes are swollen shut, his lip bloodied and distended, his powerful body a series of lacerations and bruises. Larissa cries openly beside me, swiping at her eyes angrily as her little fingers maneuver the cuffs that bind him. She knows what she’s doing and she’s brought tools with her, and soon, the cuffs fall to the floor. I heave Maksym to my shoulder with considerable effort when I hear our truck crash to a stop right outside the door.

“Go!” I tell her. “And for God’s sake, be careful!”

Our men have held them back, though. Amidst gun shots that grow closer by the second, I toss Maksym in the back seat. They’re here. They’ve got us surrounded. One grabs Larissa by the hair, and with a feral snarl, I pull the trigger inches from his head. She shrieks when his blood spatters her clothing and face, but I continue shooting, his body writhing and twitching under the onslaught of bullets. With one quick tug, I grab her arm and haul her into the truck.

“Go!” I tell the driver. The rest of my men will hold off our enemies. Maksym and Larissa are my job now.

We get back to our compound late at night. Maksym is disoriented and broken.

I will kill them. I will kill every last motherfucking one of them.

He’s under the doctor’s care now, resting under a powerful sedative while his broken limbs are set, his lacerations doctored, and he’s given IV fluids and nutrition. Larissa stays with me through it all, wincing when the needles poke his arms, wiping silently at her tears when they set four broken bones.

“This is so cruel,” she says on a broken whisper. She stands to the side to allow the doctors I’ve summoned to do their work.

I take her hand and tug her on my knee. “This is the world I live in.” I pause. “The world you live in. Can you handle this? My best man was kidnapped and brutalized. We’ve taken him back. This means war.”

“War?” she repeats.

“War, Larissa. Are you prepared for this?”

Nodding, she places her head on my shoulder. “Prepared? No,” she whispers. “Will I do what it takes for me to learn my place in the brotherhood? Hell yes.”

I fight against this. She’d be an asset, but I can’t have her in danger. I can’t have her on the field.

“You’ll do exactly what I say,” I warn.

“We go over this like literally every day.”

I give her butt a smack. “Maybe we should go over it twice a day.”

With an adorable pout, she places her chin in her hand. “If you say so.”

“I do. I fucking do.”

“Okay, okay. Got it.” She nods. “I’ll do what you say. But I don’t want to sit by idly, Demyan. I can bring tools to this table. Skills that would be an asset to you.”

Her beauty and strength are assets to me, more than she’ll ever know.

I stand and take her hand, and we walk quietly to our room. Maksym is recovering. He needs his rest.

We go back to our suite in silence. When we reach the door, I open it and take her in with me. I call my men to get the status update.

The three men who ambushed us were killed, no one else has followed. It’s only a matter of time before they discover we’ve taken him back. How they retaliate is up to them.

I shut and lock the door behind her, then lift her in my arms. Her legs encircle me, her hands on my neck. I bend down and give her a gentle kiss.

“Malyshka. I can make the second bedroom your office. Let you run the inside operations that require the skills you have.”

“You would do that?” she inclines her head curiously.

“Of course.”

Grinning, she tightens her grip on me.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes! You’ll let me work for you?”

“With me, but yes, I’ll be your boss.”

Grinning, she quirks a brow. “Do I get paid?”

“Of course.” I suggest a salary and her brows shoot up.

“And Calina?”

“Calina will have a place here as well. To rest and recover.”

“No more institutions,” she says, pleading.