“Dominik Dudnikov. I’ve heard a lot about you. Heard you rose to lead the Bratva with your fists and your guts. But now look at you, hiding away like a scared little child.”
He chuckles as he strolls around the car to Dom’s side. The other men crowd all around the car, two on my side and two on Dom’s, boxing us in.
I remind myself of what Dom said, that nothing can get through this car, that we’re safe, and yet there’s a voice inside of me screaming that this is going to end in blood.
“I expected more of you, I have to admit,” the man says, leaning down to grin at Dom through the glass.
Dom clenches his fists, letting out a ragged breath. “Takes a big man to act tough with four goons and five pistols.”
“Step from the car and we’ll chuck our guns away, settle this like men.”
Dom stares at the man, his jaw tight, his temples pulsing like any second he could explode from his seat and dive from the car.
I reach out and place my hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly, silently willing him to stay here with me.
“You’re a liar,” Dom tells the man flatly. “If you were really a man, you wouldn’t have to rely on threatening civilians, women, children. You’re sad fucking amateurs who think injecting yourself with steroids makes you tough.”
The man flinches, and then suddenly – without warning – he slams the butt of his pistol against the car window. The glass rattles but doesn’t break, and the noise is muffled, quieter than I expected.
Even so, I flinch and let out a terror-filled whimper.
Dom glances at me. “He can’t get in here. I promise you. I’ll never let anybody hurt you.”
“Aw, how sweet,” the man cackles, his grinning face distorted by the glass now. “Here I was thinking this little slut was your niece or something, but I think you’ve got something else going for this cunt.”
I ignore his words, focusing on Dom, on the effect they’re having on him. I can tell he wants to erupt from the car and everything inside of me screams at him to stop, to remember our future is more important than this scumbag.
But despite that, my emotions quiver at the man’s words, at the casual way he throws the insults, and the vicious implication about our age gap when our age gap means nothing to me when it actually makes me want him more.
“Come on, Dom, my boy, open up so we can all have a go on her. She’s a little… thicker than my regular tastes, but I’m sure I can make it work.”
Dom glares at the man, his whole body shaking now.
“You will not talk about my woman like that again. Consider this fair warning.”
Silver Tooth holds his hands up – gesturing with the gun – and lets out a jagged laugh. “Oooh, scary.”
The men around him chuckle in an unhinged way, blindly following the cruelty of their leader.
“I’d make you feel real good, you horny bitch,” the man snarls. “Why don’t you open the door and I’ll show you how a real man fucks. I might even forget how difficult you are to look at if you put on a good show.”
“Right,” Dom says, letting out a matter of fact sigh. “You’ve done it now.”
“You’ve done it now,” the man cackles. “Is that supposed to scare me—”
I let out a cry of shock when Dom explodes into action.
I’ve never seen anybody move with such vicious intent, as though he’d rehearsed this moment a million times before, moving fluidly as he darts forward and pushes the door violently open.
Silver Tooth roars as the door crashes into him, and then Dom leaps from the car, slamming the door behind him.
I hear the click of the lock.
“Dom,” I scream, darting forward to grab the door, but even as I shake the handle it doesn’t open.
“The door won’t open, ma’am,” the driver says through the intercom. “I’ve locked it.”
“Open the door,” I scream, battering my hands against the window, pain flurrying through my chest. “They’re going to kill him.”
There’s nothing I can do but stare through the glass as Dom spins into action, grabbing Silver Tooth by the back of the neck and slamming him forcefully against the car, causing the glass to rattle.
He wheels him around – the mob guy’s face is battered, dripping blood – and uses his body as a bludgeoning tool when more goons leap at him.
He knocks two of them over like bowling pins and then ducks and comes up with a vicious punch to the third, moving all the while with graceful movements, flowing between the men like he’s done this thousands of times before.
He grabs the man when he rocks back with the force, wrapping his arms around his neck and spinning, using him as a human shield as the remaining two men advance with their guns raised.