Page 72 of Gilded in Blood

I tighten my grip on the Glock, keeping it trained on his chest.

One wrong move, and I’ll put a bullet in him.

“Fine,” he grits out. “Just find the guy so I can get out of here.”

“Come on,” I snap, taking the lead as I follow the trail of blood.

The drops get thicker as we climb the stairs. My mind is racing. If Milana found him… if she helped him…

The trail leads straight to my apartment door, and right there, in the middle of my kitchen, stands the real Ilya weak, bleeding, barely on his feet.

And beside him is Milana, eyes wide with shock and betrayal as she stares at me.

The look on her face says everything. She knows. I’m fucked.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Kirill

The moment Milana sees me step into the apartment, she makes a grab for a knife on the kitchen counter and points it straight at me. Her hand is shaking, but her eyes are wide with fear. Real fear.

It breaks something in me.

She shouldn’t be scared of me. I would never hurt her. But right now, she doesn’t know that. And I don’t blame her. After what she’s found out, she has every reason to think I’m the monster in the room.

“Stay back,” she says, voice trembling but determined. “Don’t come any closer.”

The goon beside me shifts, confused. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Shut up,” I snap at him, keeping my eyes on Milana.

I take a slow step forward, hands raised. “Milana, calm down. I can explain. Just put the knife down and let’s talk.”

She shakes her head, gripping the knife tighter. “Explain? You’ve been lying to me this whole time. You made me believe you were Ilya. You lied to my family. Meanwhile, you had the real Ilya chained up in the basement like an animal. How could you? What is your end game? What do you want from me? From my family? Are you working with Michael? Who the hell are you?”

The goon swears under his breath. “What the fuck? She knows everything?”

He starts reaching for his gun. “We have to take her to Michael. Change of plans. We’re taking her now.”

“No,” I growl. “We are not taking her to Michael. That is not the plan.”

“Just so you know, the police are already on their way,” she shouts, her voice trembling.

Fuck, baby. You shouldn’t have said that. Now you’ve given this idiot an idea.

The goon’s eyes are wild. “She knows too much. She called the fucking police. We have to get rid of her.”

“No, we're not doing that!”

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he raises his gun, disengages the safety, and aims it at Milana.

Time slows.

I move without thinking, slamming my hand into his arm and knocking the gun off target.

The shot cracks through the apartment. Instead of hitting Milana, the bullet tears into the real Ilya, who’s still slumped against the kitchen counter.

He cries out as he crumples to the floor. The bastard swings the gun back toward Milana, intent on finishing the job.