Page 27 of Bratva Holiday

“In second place, we have His Illustriousness, Dimitri and his beautiful, magnificent, hot-as-fuck, like, damn⁠—”

I growled loudly enough for that fucker to hear.

“My bad. Got a little carried away there. In second place, on five points, are Dimitri and Autumn.”

Lukyan and Lyla clapped, cheering. It wasn’t for me, I was sure. It was for Autumn.

“And then, in third place on four points, Nikolai and Tatiana.”

Another round of applause.

Mikhail put the scoreboard back and began walking down the line once more. “Now, do not be discouraged. This is still anyone’s game. All you need is one win to get your names up there, so don’t give up.” He coughed dramatically as he said, “Illayana and Arturo. Lukyan and Lyla.”

“I’m not worried!” Lukyan yelled out. “This is our year!”

“That’s the spirit!” Mikhail clapped. “Keep that confidence! Now, we’re stepping into this game with only one rule.” His gaze hardened as he moved his eyes over all of us, one at a time. “You’re not allowed to turn the weapons on each other.”

Autumn leaned over. “Did he really need to say that? It’s kind of a given, isn’t it?”

I looked at her, my brows raised.

“Good point.” She leaned back, resuming her position, hands behind her back, posture perfect.

“You have a chance to score more points for your team during this game, so make your shots count,” Milkhail continued. “In front of you is a Glock 19. It has fifteen rounds. The target is set twenty-five yards away. Standard shooting rules apply. Speed will not be taken into consideration at this time. Only the accuracy of your shots. Should there be a tie for first place, that will change.”

Aleksandr’s confident scoff could be heard from miles away. He didn’t think there would be a tie.

A playful smile pulled at Autumn’s lips. She winked at me. I chuckled, shaking my head.

Mikhail moved off to the side, out of firing range. “Everyone, arm up!”

I stepped forward, picking up the Glock. It was already loaded, but muscle memory had me emptying the magazine almost on autopilot. I checked it over before slamming it back into place and pulling the hammer back, arming the weapon. Clicks and clacks echoed in the air, my four children doing the exact same thing.

All ten of us took stance, guns up, taking aim.

“Ready! Set! Fire!”

Gunshots rang out all around us. Ten seconds and it was all over.

Mikhail ran to the target rings, inspecting each one carefully. He took his time, measuring each shot. “In third place, Dimitri!” he yelled out.

Third place?

I shrugged. Not bad.

“In second place, Lukyan!”

“Oh, get fucked!” Illayana tossed her gun down in a rage.

“And for first place…” Mikhail inspected the target rings a few more times just to be sure.

Aleksandr’s swagger was in full effect, arms crossed, his smirk firmly in place at the perceived win.

“We have a tie!”

Aleksandr’s smirk vanished, his mouth dropping open. “What?!” he hollered. “That’s impossible!”

A tie for first place meant that I had actually gotten fourth, which meant no points for me this game. That didn’t bother me since I was fairly confident about who had tied first place.