Page 61 of Unbroken
“We need to go,” I say quietly but firmly. “Right now.”
“Papa—” Luka starts.
“Now, Luka,” I say, my voice low and sharp.
His lip trembles, but Ruthie doesn’t hesitate. She picks him up like she’s done it a thousand times.
“Listen to your papa,” she says, steady and calm. “Right now.”
The three of us move like a nuclear unit, tight and contained, toward the exit. Behind us—chairs scrape. Shit.
I could take them. Every one of them. But I’ve got Ruthie and Luka with me.
Shit.
I scan the parking garage and spot our car—an SUV, parked next to a van. I did that on purpose. Cover. Options.
“Go to the car,” I say to Ruthie, low and fast. “Immediately. Buckle him in.”
I’m done playing defense. I’m going to be proactive this time.
She starts moving fast, dragging Luka along and holding him tight. He’s a big kid for his age, and she’s so small—it looks like she’s about to fold under his weight. I turn, and just like that, I’m face-to-face with two men. I know instantly: Irish. I can feel it in their stance, see it in theireyes. Their weapons are already out. I don’t wait. I don’t hesitate.
“Run, Ruthie!” I shout.
Ice in my veins, I pull the trigger.
First one—straight between the eyes. The second—I hit his shoulder. He drops, screaming, and I finish the job. Another shot. Right between the eyes. I walk toward them, pumping lead into their bodies. One after the other. I make sure they stay down. No second chances. No mercy.
They didn’t even have their guns fully drawn.Amateurs. Or maybe they just underestimated me.
The back parking lot’s empty, no witnesses—except one old man sitting in his car, eyes wide, frozen. He stares at me like he’s seen death walking. And maybe he has. I rip open my shirt and show him the sign of the Bratva burned into my skin. Brotherhood. “Fucking leave,” I tell him, voice low and calm. He nods, peeling off like a scared dog. Good.
No one’s gonna fuck with the Bratva. And even if they do—Rafail has the chief of police tucked in his fucking pocket.
I call Rafail immediately, scanning the area for movement, making sure no one else is stupid enough to come after us.
I fill him in.
“Where are you headed?” he asks.
“Back to my house.”
I don’t see any sign we were followed. It doesn’t feel like a safe-house call, not yet. But I have a bag packed, ready to go, just in case.
Fucking shit.
I holster my gun and head to the car. Ruthie and Luka are safe… for now. Butfuckthese people.
I open the driver’s side door—and she’s sitting there. In my seat. “I’ll drive,” she says.
“The fuck you will,” I snap. “Get in the passenger seat.”
She glares. “Are you kidding me? You’ve got adrenaline pumping through your veins like a junkie coming down off a high. It’s not safe for you to drive right now. I’ll drive.”
I exhale hard. She’s right. I hate it, but she’s right. I circle the car, but before I climb in, I lean down. I don’t fucking care anymore. She crossed the line. She needs to know who she’s dealing with.
I pause, then smirk.
