WIP Wednesday: Fractured Ties #KolyaandMaya #ComingSoon

Hey, loves!

It's teaser time again!

I am working on Kolya and Maya right now ... I am hoping this isn't TOO spoilerish, but I feel it's a good look at Kolya.

So, do enjoy.

Unedited, and subject to changes.


Kolya itched to move. Eyeing those around him who took their sweet fucking time strapping protective gear onto their bodies, he had to beat down the urge to snap at every single one of them to hurry the fuck up, and get a move on.
What did they need Kevlar for, anyway?
Didn’t they know—
A vest was slammed against Kolya’s chest, taking his attention away from the handful of men prepping for their next move. He met his brother’s gaze, but he could tell just by the hard set of Konstantin’s jaw that his brother was not in the mood for an argument from Kolya.
He wondered if his brother was up for a punch in the mouth.
“Put a vest on, brat,” Konstantin demanded.
The corner of his lip twitched—a slight provocation of a smile, although he was sure it would come out bitter, and dark. “Since when do you care, yeah?”
Konstantin gave him a look. “Put the fucking vest on.”
His brother hit him with the vest again, and let it go. Kolya caught it before it could drop to the ground. Shit, if putting on the Kevlar meant they were going to get out of his alley quicker and start this show, then he didn’t mind doing that.
As it was, Kolya was too numb.
Too quiet.
There was a very real possibility that if he got Valbon Gashi in his sights tonight—or any fucking Albanian—then things would end badly. He’d been on this train of thought for three fucking days.
Too many days, really.
All he was allowed to do while information was gathered to make this move against the Albanians was fucking think. Stay stuck inside his head, and imagine the worst possible things a man like him could conjure up in his messed up mind.
If she was hurt …
If she was in any worse condition than he left her …
Bad things were coming.
Bad things had a name—it was Kolya.
Konstantin pulled out a rifle from the back of someone’s trunk—an AR15 by the looks of it. The trunk was full of them. He passed the gun to a waiting man, and then gave Kolya another look while he finally strapped on that vest. Maybe a little too tightly given the way the velcro bit into his shoulders, but he didn’t care.
Everything was an afterthought right now—pain, care, and life. Nothing mattered, and he could do without it. If he could forget to breathe until this was over, that’d be fucking perfect. Who needed air, anyhow?
What?” he barked at his brother.
Konstantin straightened with a new rifle in his hands that he offered to Kolya. He yanked the gun out of his brother’s hands while Konstantin murmured, “Nothing. You just look … distraught. That’s the right word, yeah? Hopeless.”
Kolya’s eye twitched and switched to Russian when he said quietly, “Don’t say that.”
“The truth?”
“My weakness.” 


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