“We’ll talk about this later,” he said, his voice laced with urgency. “For now, I need you to stay here, okay?”
I nodded.
“Hide in the closet, and do not come out no matter what,” he added. “I’ll take care of this problem. I promise.”
His gaze lingered on me a bit longer, as though he wasn’t sure about leaving me all by myself. “I’ll send some men to protect you.”
As he turned to leave, I called out to him, “Artur.”
He paused, looking back at me.
“Be careful.”
A very faint grin flashed on his lips, and he dashed out of the room.
The chaos was heavy outside, gunshots filling the air. Men bellowed, glass shattered, and multiple explosions shook the whole building. The hanging chandelier trembled at the blast, and the flower vase on a table fell off, shattering across the floor.
I rushed into the closet and closed the door. The second I did that, the window broke, the glass giving way as two armed men landed inside. They moved around, guns held up in front of them like they were looking for any sign of life.
Hidden in the closet, I remained silent, watching them through the gap in the door. Then, it happened. A figure dashed into the room, firing twice, one shot for each assassin.
They dropped to the floor. Dead.
I tilted my head, trying to catch my savior’s face while holding my gun tightly.
It wasn’t until after another gunshot rang and he fell to the ground that I realized who it was.
Konstantin.
He’d been shot from the back, and now the shooter had walked in, ready to finish the job. I could stay silent and watch them kill Artur’s most trusted man. Or I could take that bold step and shoot his attacker first.
The man didn’t like me.
Why should I risk my life and my unborn baby’s safety to save him?
I wanted to play it safe. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew I could’ve done something but didn’t.
The attacker was already standing over Konstantin with his gun aimed at him.
“Fuck,” I murmured under my breath and kicked the closet door open.
Without hesitation, I fired three times and didn’t miss a single shot. All three bullets hit the target: the assassin’s heart.
He dropped dead before he could pull his trigger.
Konstantin looked up and met my gaze.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
He groaned at his pain, his hand over his bleeding stomach. “I had him,” he whispered.
“Yeah, you did,” I answered sarcastically, ignoring his ingratitude.
My fingers found the hem of my dress, and I ripped off a piece, then walked over to him.
“What’re you doing?” he strained, struggling to breathe.
“Can you sit up?” I asked.