Gilded Cage: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 1) Nicole Fox (people reading books TXT) 📖

It takes several more minutes for her breathing to relax. When it does, I check to make sure she’s really sleeping before I disentangle myself from her and stand.

My mind is so wide awake, so alert, that I know I won’t be able to sleep for several hours.

In my old life, when I got into this mood, I’d head to a club with Cillian and we’d spend the night getting drunk and fucked up.

That is not what I crave anymore.

I realize with a start that it’s been several weeks since I’ve last touched alcohol. And perhaps that’s why I’ve been feeling things in such a raw, unadulterated way.

Clarity is something I need now, but it isn’t necessarily the most comfortable feeling to be faced with.

I’m standing by the window, contemplating a midnight run, when my ears catch a sharp sound.

I still, my eyes turning alert as I scan the darkened horizon.

The sound didn’t sound natural at all. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like a signal off one of the perimeter traps I’d set earlier this evening.

Which meant a very large animal had ventured closer to the cabin that it had ever done before, or else…

We have someone unwelcome visitors.

I snap the window shut and draw the blinds down.

I’m making my way to the door when Esme sits up suddenly.

“Artem?” she says, her voice panicked already. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I reply, but I don’t sound convincing. “I just… I heard something and I need to go check it out.”

She frowns. “Why do you look so… tense?”

“I think one of my perimeter traps got tripped,” I admit.

“Someone else is here?” she asks.

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

“Artem…”

I move to the side of the bed and grab her hand.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, trying to infuse my voice with confidence. “It’s probably nothing. I bet it’s just that stag that got the better of me, remember? Back for revenge.”

I expect her to laugh. Instead, she frowns, a different kind of frown than I’ve ever seen from her before.

“Take Cillian with you,” she begs.

“I don’t need to,” I say calmly. “I’ll be back soon. Stay in bed.”

“But—”

“Esme!” I bark.

She quiets at once. Her lip trembles.

“Stay in bed,” I order.

“I’ll be back soon.”

I close the door on her. When I turn around, Cillian shoots off the sofa, obviously still wide awake.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking in my tense stance.

“Something tripped one of my perimeter traps,” I tell him. “I need to go check it out.”

“Let’s go then.”

“No,” I tell him firmly. “I want you to stay here with Esme.”

He doesn’t like that one bit. “Artem, you might need back-up.”

“It could be nothing.”

“And what if it’s not?”

“Then I’ll handle it.” I loop the rifle over my shoulder and tuck the Glock in the back of my jeans. “I have two more guns in that drawer over there. Ammo is under the kitchen cabinet. Keep Esme safe.”

I head out of the cabin, with adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Darkness is my only real cover as I move deeper into the woods where my traps lurk.

None of them will succeed in stopping an attack of any kind. They’re merely meant to alert me to the presence of intruders.

I’m a few steps shy of the nearest trap when I hear a voice in the shadows.

“Fuck.”

I freeze at the muttered curse. My hand grips my gun. I slink backwards to find coverage behind the trees.

I don’t know who’s here, what they want, how many there are.

Until I have more information, I need to play this carefully.

Common sense tells me that the safest bet is to get back to the cabin, grab Cillian and Esme, and make a run for it.

But I’ve done enough running in this lifetime. I hated it then and I hate it now. It’s not in my nature.

My first instincts are to stand my ground and fight.

To protect my family by putting myself in between them and danger.

And to beat danger into the fucking ether.

More muffled sounds emerge in the distance. I prick up my ears and pay attention.

By the sound of it, I’m guessing that I have at least four men to deal with. Possibly more coming from the east. It’s hard to say exactly because of the wind causing a low whistle through the trees.

I see movement off in the distance. I pause, darting behind a thin willow that leaves me exposed on the other side.

I raise my gun. Keep my eyes peeled. As they adjust more to the darkness, I start to see silhouettes moving through the trees now.

They’re coming towards me without caution. That tells me that they still don’t know I’m here.

At this point, the element of surprise is all I have.

I stay still and lie in wait.

A tall figure steps into view. I can’t make out individual features but I see enough to know that I don’t recognize him.

I think about Razor and his band of misfits near the ravine the other day.

It is possible he had more men at his command than I had initially suspected. Which suggests they are here now to exact their revenge.

The thought makes me slightly more confident. If these men fight like Razor and his idiots, then I have nothing to fear.

Still, I’m not about to celebrate until their bodies are lying at my feet.

Stanislav’s old words ring in my head.

Even a dead snake’s venom can still kill you.

The tall man stops only inches away from me. When he turns to look at his comrades, he shows me the back of his neck.

I strike instantly.

I grab him by the throat and smash his head into the same tree I’m hiding behind. I smell the release of fresh blood at once.

I don’t wait to find out if a single strike was sufficient. I ram his face against the tree a second time.

When I pull him away, his eyes are wide and glazed with shock.

His lips move. Before he makes a noise that gives away my position, I twist his neck hard. A dull snap rings out.

And his