Page 13 of Bratva King

"I know that face."

"I don't know what you're talking about,” Alexei said.

"You've started speeding up."

Alexei grinned. "You used to keep up."

"I also used to have knees,” the old man said with a grin.

Alexei laughed quietly. The sound surprised him, because it had been a while since he felt this lighthearted. He eased his pace. Sergei had spent decades protecting the Volkov family. The least Alexei could do was spare the man an unnecessary sprint before sunrise.

"Thank you," Sergei muttered between breaths.

"Don't mention it."

They rounded another corner. Alexei turned his attention back toward the pavement. Someone stood ahead, a large man clad in an oversized jacket despite the mild temperature. The guy shoved his hands deep into enormous pockets, his features hidden beneath a hood. Probably homeless.

Alexei shifted slightly to pass, but at the last second, the stranger stepped directly into his path. Alexei instinctively stopped.

"Sorry."

The figure didn't answer.

Instead, Alexei caught sight of a glint. Metal flashed beneath the streetlight, and time slowed. His pulse lurched, and instinct screamed. That wasn't a phone or keys, but a weapon.

“Alexei, duck!" A woman's voice shattered the silence.

Alexei didn't think, he simply reacted. His knees painfully hit the pavement just as something cracked through the stillness. A deafening report echoed between the buildings.

The bundled stranger staggered violently, and Alexei finally considered it safe to look up. A familiar figure burst from the darkness at full speed. She wore black clothes, her dark hair was pulled back, and she had already raised her gun.

It was her, the woman from the rooftop. The assassin. She was running straight toward them. Another shot split the night. The attacker dove behind a parked car, disappearing from sight.

“Stay down!" she shouted.

Alexei remained crouched as shattered glass exploded from a nearby vehicle. Sergei had already drawn his sidearm.

"Mr. Volkov! I’m here,” Sergei yelled.

"I'm fine!"

The woman never looked at Alexei. Her attention remained locked on the attacker. She moved with astonishing speed, crossing the street while using parked vehicles for cover. She wasn't trying to kill him. Hell, she was protecting him. The realization struck him with startling clarity.

The bundled attacker emerged again, weapon raised. Everything happened at once. The woman fired. The attacker stumbled backward but didn't go down. Instead, he pivoted and fired toward her.

She tried to move, but she wasn’t fast enough. She cried out as the impact spun her sideways. Her shoulder slammed against the side of a car before she collapsed hard onto the pavement.

A curse tore itself from Alexei’s throat before he realized he'd spoken. The attacker recovered first, and he lifted his weapon again. Pointing directly at the woman now lying motionless several yards away. Sergei raised his own pistol.

"I've got him in my sights!” Sergei yelled.

"No!” Alexei barked.

Sergei thankfully hesitated. The woman was too close and was in Sergei’s line of fire. One mistake could hit her instead of his attacker.

"Hold your fire!" Alexei told Sergei.

He didn’t wait. In fact, he was already moving. Years of combat training took over. He closed the distance before the attacker fully registered him.