Silken Chains (Bond by Morozov Bratva Book 1) (Bond by Morozov Bratva Series)

CHAOS REIGNS as bullets rip through the night. We’re sitting ducks, caught in the open with nowhere to run. Misha’s beside me, firing back with a snarl on his face.

“We need to get the fuck out of here!” he yells.

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest.

Fuck! This was supposed to be a simple takedown, but Ivan’s outplayed us.

“Ari!” I shout over the gunfire. “Cover us!”

Ari, the giant, grunts in response, his massive frame shielding us as he returns fire.

“Mudak!” he curses, his voice booming over the chaos. “I’ll make them pay for this!”

“Pizdets!” I turn to look at Igor, who’s pinned down behind a crate, blood seeping from a wound in his shoulder. “Boss, we’re outnumbered!”

He’s right. We’re outnumbered and outgunned. I signal to Misha, and he nods, understanding without words.

“Igor, you good?” I shout through the fire.

Igor, ever the stoic bastard, just grunts and nods, firing off a shot that takes down one of the shooters on the rooftop.

“I’ll live. Focus on getting us the fuck out of here!”

“Smoke out on three,” I yell. “One, two, three!”

Smoke grenades fly, filling the air with a thick haze. We move as one, darting through the confusion toward our waiting SUVs. Bullets whiz past, far too close for comfort.

“Sideways, move!” I bark, pushing through to Misha.

Misha nods, and we lay down a barrage, giving Ari and the others a chance to pull back. Bullets hiss past, close enough to singe. Igor’s already at the SUV, engine roaring to life, his hand stretched out for me and Misha.

We bolt, dodging gunfire, debris flying everywhere. Ari’s right behind, but a sudden explosion to our left sends him and Igor careening off in a different direction.

“Fuck!” The word is ripped from my throat as we split up, the plan shattered in an instant. “Go, go, go!”

Misha and I dive into the nearest SUV, tires squealing as we tear away from the warehouse, the enemy hot on our heels. Igor and Ari are a separate problem now—survival’s the only game.

The SUV jolts and swerves as I take a sharp turn, nearly sending us into a spin. “Fuck, they’re gaining on us!” I yell, my knuckles white on the wheel.

Misha twists in his seat, his gun already in hand. “Keep driving, boss,” he growls, rolling down the window. “I’ll take care of these svolochi.”

The cold night air whips at his face as Misha leans out, taking aim at our pursuers. The first shot shatters their windshield; the second takes out a tire. The car veers off the road, flipping into a ditch with a sickening crunch of metal.

But there’s no time to celebrate. More headlights appear in the distance, a relentless swarm of death and vengeance. We’re not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot.

The streets blur into a frenzied streak of lights and shadows as we weave through the city, Ivan Vasiliev’s men relentless. They knew; somehow, they knew exactly when and where to hit us.

The chase is on, a deadly game of cat and mouse through the city streets. I drive like a madman, taking corners on two wheels, trying to lose our tail. But they’re good, matching us move for move.

“They’re closing in, boss!” Misha shouts, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror.

I glance back, see the glare of headlights growing larger, the sound of gunfire echoing in the night. “Not for long,” I growl, my grip tightening on the wheel.

A sharp turn onto a less traveled road offers a brief respite, but it’s a fleeting victory. The enemy’s SUVs are relentless, bullets peppering the back of our vehicle, glass shattering, metal screaming.

“We can’t keep this up forever,” Misha says, his voice tense. “We need a plan.”

“I’m working on it,” I snap, my mind racing. “Just keep them off our ass!”

Misha nods, leaning out the window and firing back at our pursuers. The sound of gunfire fills the air, mixed with the roar of the engine and the pounding of my heart.

Igor takes the lead, his SUV tearing down the road like a bat out of hell. Ari’s right behind him, his massive frame barely fitting behind the wheel.

“Come on, you bastards,” I mutter under my breath. “Just a little longer.”

But Ivan’s men are like a pack of wolves, hungry for blood. They swarm around us, trying to force us off the road, to trap us in a web of steel and fire.

“Damnit, they’re everywhere!” Misha shouts, ducking back inside as a bullet whizzes past his head.

I grit my teeth, swerving to avoid a hail of gunfire. “We’ve got to shake them, now!” An unexpected pothole sends us veering, the vehicle barely under control. “Hold on!” I shout as we skid, the world tilting wildly. In the chaos, a plan forms—risky, insane, but it’s all we’ve got.

I floor it, the engine roaring as we push the limits of speed and control. Bullets crack the rear window, sending shards of glass flying.

Up ahead, Igor swerves to avoid a hail of gunfire, his vehicle careening off the road and into the darkness.

“Blyad!” I curse, my heart sinking. We can’t stop, can’t turn back.

Ari’s SUV is next, a well-aimed shot taking out his tires. He spins out, crashing into a ditch with a sickening crunch of metal.

I take a quick peek at Ari, my heart in my throat. He’s alive, crawling out of the wreckage with a look of pure fury on his face. He catches my eye, nods once, then turns his attention to the two vehicles now solely focused on us.

It’s clear now—Ivan’s men have one target in mind, and that’s me.

They want me dead, no matter the cost.

It’s just us now, Misha and me, hurtling down the road with Ivan’s men hot on our heels. “We need to lose them!” Misha yells, leaning out the window to return fire.

“I’m open to suggestions!” I shout back, my mind racing.

A sudden movement catches my eye. Misha lunges across the seat, his body slamming into mine. The crack of a gunshot splits the air, and Misha grunts in pain, his shoulder jerking back. Blood blooms across his shirt, but his eyes are fierce, focused.

“Misha, what the fuck!” I yell, realizing what he’s done. He’s taken a bullet for me, the crazy bastard.

“Just drive,” he grits out, his hand pressed against the wound. “I’ll live.”

I floor the accelerator, my heart pounding. Misha’s blood is on my hands, literally and figuratively. I’ve got to get us out of this, got to make sure his sacrifice isn’t in vain.

I grit my teeth, my mind racing. We’re running out of road and options. Up ahead, a narrow bridge looms, the river churning below.

“Hold on,” I growl, my foot pressing the pedal to the floor. Misha braces himself, his eyes wide as he realizes my plan.

The SUV leaps forward, tires screeching as we hurtle toward the bridge. Ivan’s men are right behind us, their headlights blinding in the rearview.

At the last second, I jerk the wheel, sending us crashing through the guardrail. For a moment, we’re airborne, the world suspended in breathless anticipation.

Then we’re falling, plunging toward the icy depths below. “Yob tvoyu mat’!” Misha screams, his voice lost in the roar of the wind and the rush of the river.

We hit the water hard, the impact slamming us forward. Everything goes black, the cold and the chaos swallowing us whole.

The icy water shocks me back to consciousness, its frigid grip threatening to pull me under. I gasp for air, my lungs burning as I struggle to the surface. Beside me, Misha thrashes, his face contorted in pain.

“Misha!” I yell, my voice raw and desperate. I grab him by the collar, hauling him toward the shore with every ounce of strength I have left. He’s dead weight in my arms, his blood mixing with the churning water.

We collapse on the riverbank, gasping and shivering. Misha’s eyes flutter open, glazed with pain. “Boss,” he croaks, his hand pressed against his side. Blood seeps between his fingers, stark against his pale skin.

“Hang on,” I growl, tearing off my jacket to staunch the flow. “We’re getting out of this.”

But even as I say it, I hear the screeching of tires, the shouts of Ivan’s men. They’ve found us.

I drag Misha behind the wrecked SUV, my heart pounding in my chest. He’s fading fast, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

I press the fabric against his wound, my hands shaking. He’s losing too much blood, his face growing paler by the second.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “Taking that bullet… you could’ve died.”

Misha laughs, a wet, gurgling sound. “And let you have all the fun? Not a chance.”

I shake my head, a mix of gratitude and frustration welling up inside me. This is the kind of loyalty that can’t be bought, the kind that runs deeper than blood.

And I’ll be damned if I let him die on me now.

“Don’t you fucking die on me tonight,” I yell. As I peer around the twisted metal, my stomach dropping at the sight of Ivan’s men surrounding us. They’re closing in, their guns drawn and ready.

For a moment, I close my eyes, Laura’s face flashing before me. Her smile, her laugh, the way she looks at me like I’m the only man in the world.

No. I can’t die here. Not like this. Not when I have so much to live for.

I grit my teeth, loading my gun with steady hands. “I’m getting married today,” I mutter, more to myself than to Misha. “And no fucking mudak is going to stop me.”

Misha laughs, a wet, gurgling sound that turns into a cough. “Give ‘em hell, boss,” he rasps, his eyes glinting with fierce pride.

I nod, my jaw set.

I burst from cover, firing with deadly precision.

One, two, three men drop, their bodies crumpling to the ground.

But they keep coming, bullets whizzing past my head, biting into the metal at my back. I’m running out of time, out of options.

Misha’s still firing, his aim true even as his life bleeds out onto the frozen ground. “Suka blyad!” he roars, taking down two more before his gun clicks empty.

I’m down to my last clip, my last chance. Ivan’s men are almost on us, their shadows looming like death itself.

And then I hear it—the roar of engines, the screech of tires. Headlights pierce the darkness, blinding in their intensity.

This is it, I think, my heart thundering. This is how it ends.

But I’ll be damned if I go down without a fight. Without giving these mudaks a taste of their own medicine.

I look at Misha, my brother-in-arms, my loyal friend. He meets my gaze, a silent understanding passing between us. We both know the odds are stacked against us, that this might be our last stand.

But we’re Bratva. We don’t surrender, we don’t back down. We fight until our last breath, until our bones are dust and our blood runs cold.

I take a deep breath, Laura’s face burning bright in my mind.

She’s waiting for me, counting on me to come back to her.

And I will. I’m going back to Laura, even if I have to crawl out of my own grave to do it.

I grip my gun tighter, my finger hovering over the trigger.

“Ya ne sdalus’ bez boya,” I mutter, the words like steel on my tongue. “I won’t go down without a fight.”

Misha grins, a feral, bloodstained thing. “Da, boss. Let’s give ‘em hell.”