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The sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh filters from the other room, sending vivid images of Gleb being knocked senseless into my mind. The thought sends icy panic coursing through my veins. Cold sweat breaks out across my brow, and I scramble faster as I drag piles of fabric onto the floor.
If Gleb dies, it will be all my fault.
And right now, he’s fighting with far too many disadvantages.
His time is running out.
“Fucking shit!” I hiss. I’ve searched every drawer with no success. Wildly, I scan the remainder of his once immaculately tidy room. “Gleb, where the fuck do you keep your knives?”
17
GLEB
Pain slices across my ribcage as Miko batters my side. I can feel the sticky blood making my shirt cling to my skin. But I’m so furious with myself for letting my guard down while I was arguing with Mel, I hardly care.
I can’t believe I let this asshole waltz right through my front door.
I should have been ready.
Keeping my muscles tense, my arm locked in place to guard my side, I struggle to regain the upper hand. Miko’s no joke. He’s a fucking bastard, if I’m perfectly honest, and not about to go easy on me for a second. He’s also really fucking good at fighting hand-to-hand. And would kill me without a second thought.
If I had my knives, I could beat him. But with fists? He has the advantage.
Which means I’m going to have to take a risk if I want to get out of this.
Bracing for the pain that’s sure to follow, I wait for my narrow window. And as his fist connects with my ribs once again, I don’t soften the blow. I reach back to grab his fingers that hold my head in a vise.
And when I separate his pinky from my skin, I twist it backward with as much force as I can muster. Agony explodes across my side, and I hear the crack at the same time. Miko howls, his grip slackening, and I dip low, removing myself from his hold.
I don’t wait to find out if the broken finger is enough to make him pause. My ribs scream in protest as I drive forward, planting my shoulder against his hip joint. And at the same time, I power upward, launching Miko over my shoulder.
Glass shatters as he lands, flat on his back, across my coffee table. The entire thing collapses beneath his weight. And from the sound of it, the impact knocks the air from his lungs. Grasping my throbbing side with one hand, I settle into a crouch, my eyes intent on any slight movement he makes.
“Svoloch,” Miko wheezes as he rolls onto his feet. “I’ll kill you for that.”
I snort. “I’m the bastard? You’re as illegitimate as me, brat. So don’t start thinking that’s an insult. It’s just a fact of life. Go ahead. Kill me,” I taunt. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Gleb.”
My heart skips a beat at Mel’s hushed voice. The proximity of which is far too close for comfort. My eyes flash to my right, and I find her crouching at the near end of the hallway.
My knives rest on the floor, trapped loosely between her fingertips.
Ready for her to slide them over.
Christ, I could kiss that girl.
Her onyx eyes are round with worry, and she waits for my signal.
From the corner of my eye, I can tell Miko’s spotted her too. I give Mel a quick nod, silently telling her to pass me my blades.
As soon as I move, Miko dives forward, reaching for the sharp blades that hiss across the wood floor.
I spring into action, rolling to meet them before he can.
Confidence floods my veins as my fingers wrap around the hilts of my already-open blades. And in a flash, I spin into a crouch once more, slicing the air until one fine metal tip meets flesh.
Miko curses me out in Russian, the flow of profanity enough to even rival Mel’s mouth. And he stumbles back, his palm pressed against his chest to stop the blood from pouring out.
