The Bratva’s Locked Up Love by Jagger Cole
15
Maksim
She looks backat me when the guard urges her to go. I just nod. He might be a piece of shit, but he’s not wrong. If what he’s saying is actually true, she needs to get the fuck out of here, right now.
I grit my teeth. So do I. But she’s far more important. And far more at risk.
She rakes her teeth over her lip. But I nod quietly again, urging her without words.
“Doc!” The guard screams. “Come on!”
Our eyes lock. “Go” my lips say silently. Her mouth purses. But thankfully, she nods. She looks at me once more before she turns to follow the guard out the door. He slams the door to the hole shut behind him. Then, I’m alone again.
I drop to the edge of the cot. My hand tightens around the lace panties, and I groan. I bring them to my nose, inhaling the scent of her arousal—like sweet candy. Like the only drug I want.
I close my eyes, trying to block the distant sound of the alarm. Breach alarm or not, I’m sure they have this under control. A place this high-tech, and advanced? It’s either a drill, a mistake, or something that’ll be squashed in seconds.
The door to hole suddenly opens with a whine of metal. I frown, slipping her panties into my pocket.
Two men step in, and I recognize both of them from the torturing session Quinn interrupted. One is the ringleader. The second is the bearded guy who speaks terrible Russian. My eyes narrow as they smile at me.
“What’s up, comrade!” One chirps, smirking wickedly at me.
I just smile. They still don’t know I speak English. I can’t see any reason to correct that right now.
“Do it through the bars and let’s get the fuck out,” the second guy grunts at the first. He looks nervous, hopping from foot-to-foot.
The first guard smiles. “Uh-uh, open it. We gotta use the blades.”
“Yeah, fuck that.”
I keep smiling, listening. Figuring out what the hell I’m going to do here.
“Dude, we can’t just shoot him. The guns are all coded to your badge number. So are the rounds.”
“Shit,” the second guy mutters nervously. “I ain’t going in there to stab this motherfucker. He’s already killed six other assholes who tried.”
“Stop being a pussy. Have him come to the door, like we’re bringing him somewhere. We’ll cuff him first, then we’ll take ‘em off when it’s over. The whole system’s failing, it’ll look like one of those other animals finally got a good shot at him.”
“Yeah, but the hole runs on a separate circuit—”
“Can we just fucking do this already?” Guard number one snaps. “Christ.”
The bearded guy turns to me and clears his throat. He jangles a set of keys at me.
“Podoyti k dveri. My dostavim vas v bezopasnoye mesto,” he grunts. Come to door. We bring you to safety.
I smile widely at him. “Da, spasibo!” Thanks.
The bearded guy turns to wink at the first. “We’re golden.” He turns to beckon me to the bars. I smile, nodding as I approach.
“When he gets close, handcuff him to the bars and we end this Volkov motherfucker so we can get paid.
My brow lowers, my jaw ticks. Now this is interesting. They know who I am.
The bearded guy smiles and beckons me again. I smile even wider, nodding like a fucking idiot as I say “da” again and march to the door. My pulse ticks. My muscles coil, ready to spring. I turn, putting my hands to the bars until I feel the metal of the cuffs.
Then I move, and I move fast.
The man gasps as I grab the cuffs in my hand and yank hard with a twist. He screams, and I hear the snap of his wrists breaking. His agonizing wails fill the stone room as I whirl. The first man rushes to his aid, which is actually admirable. But it’s also his death sentence.
Both of my hands jab through the bars, grabbing the both of them by the throats. Eyes widen. Breaths catch short. With a snarl, I yank them both against the bars, hard. The hit to the face stuns them both. But I don’t stop. I keep clenching their throats harder, smashing them against the bars over and over until I feel their necks snap. The pulses under my hands stop.
I lower them both gently, and then reach for the keys the bearded asshole was holding. It’s time to get the fuck out of here.
I take the phone from under my bed. I sling the M16 one was holding over my shoulder and rack the shotgun the other had. My lips curl as I step out of the cage and march to the door out of the hole.
Something tells me, this “prison break” is no accident. Something is rotten in this place. And Quinn just ran up into the very thick of it.
In the hallways outside, there’s nothing but chaos everywhere. Blood splatters, dead guards, dead prisoners, and broken glass litter the floors. This is a fucking disaster.
A voice in my head hisses that this is also an opportunity. The survivor part of me that’s gotten me through so many times where I should have died screams at me to run, and to get the fuck out of this place, right now.
But I tell that part of me to shut the fuck.
Yeah, I could escape. But I’m not going anywhere without her.
