Page 77 of Dark Seduction
In one fluid motion, I scoop up the fallen weapon, take aim, and fire two quick shots. Both hit their mark, dropping the hitman dead before he can recover or retaliate. Just like that, the immediate threat is neutralized.
I turn to Vanya, who's still in the car, clutching his arm but alive.
"I'm fine, just a flesh wound," he calls out. "Go check on Dalia."
I don't hesitate.
I rush to the door of the motel room. Heart pounding, I push it open and find her exactly as I feared: tied to a chair, eyes wide with terror then relief as they meet mine.
Wasting no time I stride over to her. My hands work quickly, untying the ropes that bind her and pulling the gag from her mouth. All that matters now is that she's safe, that she's alive.
As I free her, the weight of the night's events begins to settle in, but there's no time to process it—not yet.
I scan her quickly, my eyes probing for any sign of injury, "Are you okay?"
She nods, managing a shaky smile. "Yes, I'm okay, just shaken up." Her voice trembles as she adds, "They didn't hurt me, but they wanted to."
Seeing the tears welling up in her eyes, I pull her into a tight embrace, my arms a protective shield around her. "You're safe now.”
But even as I say the words, a nagging doubt creeps in. The danger hasn’t yet fully passed. There's another gunman out there, and I have no way of knowing where he is or what his intentions are.
Suddenly, a voice cuts through the air. "Lev! Dalia!"
Gun at the ready, I move cautiously toward the door, my senses heightened. As I peer out, I see a figure standing near Vladimir's body. It's Alexei, his shoulder still bandaged, a gun in theuninjured hand.
"It's good to see you alive," he calls out, a small smile on his lips. "Brother."
Chapter 34
Dalia
"Brother?"
The word bounces off the dingy motel walls like a bad joke.
Lev and I share a wide-eyed look—has the world gone topsy-turvy tonight?
Lev puts up a hand like a traffic cop as Alexei steps closer.
Alexei, unfazed, whips out his phone and calmly dials like he’s ordering pizza.
"Come now," he barks into the device. Turning to me he says, “My top-notch cleaners will take care of this mess. I have a medic coming with them. I figured tonight would get messy.”
Speaking of messy, Vanya limps over, his hand clamped on his arm, blood seeping through his fingers. His face is stoic, like he’s simply stubbed a toe.
"It’s not that bad," he tries to assure us. “Let me just sit for a moment.”
“You’ve been shot,” Lev says. “Sit and keep pressure on it.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Vanya says. “I’ve had worse.”
Alexei begins to stride over with that gangster swagger of his, then pauses mid-step. He drops the duffel bag that’s been hanging off his good shoulder, rummages through it, and pulls out a bottle of vodka.
"Got this from my private stash.” He presents the bottle to Lev like he's unveiling a rare treasure. "Figured we'd need something strong to celebrate our survival, and to brace ourselves for the chat we're about to have."
As if on cue, a big white van pulls up, and out tumble a bunch of guys in janitor uniforms. They get straight to work, cleaning up the night’s mess with a precision that's slightly disturbing.
Meanwhile, a medic finally gives Vanya some much needed attention, patching up his arm with a professionalism that suggests he’s used to bullet wounds more than bruises.