Russian Roulette Novels & Stories

I leveled my weapon, my breathing entirely still, and squeezed the trigger three times. Pfft. Pfft. Pfft. The rounds caught the left guard in the unarmored meat of his thigh and the soft tissue of his lower throat, bypassing his ballistic plate. He folded instantly, his carbine slipping from his fingers as he collapsed against a rusted steel drum, his hands clawing weakly at his neck. To my right, the guard I had swept was scrambling frantically to his feet, his face smeared with mud as he reached wildly for the sidearm at his hip.

I had my finger along the frame of the pistol—not on the trigger yet because if I hit it too soon, it could end up badly. Marcus was enjoying it. I could see it in his face—those smug little smiles every time Katherine whimpered, every time Dacre’s hand shook as he lifted the revolver for that sick game. Russian roulette. Marcus had always been fond of control, but this… this was something else. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted blood. I couldn’t stay still. I couldn’t let it go on any longer. But if I moved now, if I jumped and missed, Katherine would be lost forever. And Dacre... He could be hurt.

I don’t scream at him. He turns into the building without a word. Hopefully, he— Gunshots ring out, far closer now. A bullet lodges in the cracked wood next to my head. I flatten myself against an exterior wall. Someone yells something in Russian. Six bullets in the chamber. Inhale. Know you want to take this life. I lean out, spot a Russian behind a fallen row of mail cubbies, and fire. He spins away, his shoulder spouting blood. “No time to waste!” I call as I duck back. “Move when you see an opening.”

But I couldn’t lift my head to watch him approaching. He stopped right in front of me, but I kept my gaze fixed on the table. The sound of metal reached my ears as half a dozen bronze bullets scattered onto the wooden table. I watched as Caeson reached for one of them. “Are you familiar with the term, ‘Russian roulette’?” My gaze slid up to him swiftly in horror as he spun the silver cylinder.

And the look of disgust in his eyes. “Let’s play a little game,” he growled, a menacing smile on his face. Slowly he pulled the gun from my temple while Roberto and Massimo held their aim on me. He opened the cylinder of the revolver, eyeing it, counting the number of bullets before spinning the cylinder and flicking it closed. “Russian roulette. Shall we?” He pressed the barrel of the revolver back to my temple. The whole scene played out like it was happening to someone else; like it was a bad movie. “Should I kill you now?” he bellowed, rage clear on his face. “I should have expected something

It was brought to him, and he filled it with one cartridge before locking it back. “I love to play Russian Roulette. It's the truest meaning of a game of life and death.” He announced, looking at the revolver as though he held one for the first time. “Any pull of my trigger could have your life off in a heartbeat… Why isn't he talking? Oh. There's tape on his mouth. Go rip it off.” Again, the same man went to remove the tape, and took it off with the utmost brutality, causing their victim to cry out so loud that it hurt my ears.

He roared and at the same time he pressed on my finger, pushing on the trigger and I died inside for the quick second it took for the empty chamber to click and roll. I didn't get to take a relieved breath as he looked into my eyes, looking so calm and the opposite of how I felt. Broken and wrecked. “Try again.” “D-Don’t—" He smiled, a cruel slash of his lips in his face. “You know I hate Russiäns but I love their roulette, you never know what it will bring.” He pulled the trigger again, prisoning my fingers beneath his. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed. It clicked and the chamber rolled.

They have been at odds from the very start and her mouth had been what he disliked the most. ‘’Well .. well … well. See who finally finds her way into my den?’’ bradon mocked as he picked up the whip. ‘’You know today I am in a good mood so I won't do the whipping’’ Tessa, could not thank her stars more. But her joy was short-lived. Brandon carefully takes out his 38 Revolver, she was no naive nerd, she knew what it meant even before the words fell out of his mouth. ‘’How about we play Russian Roulette?’’ ‘’you are indeed the devil-like they say’’ ‘’well I never said i was some angel bitch’’

Instead, he turned his head, his azure eyes locking onto Alexander coldly. "Ivy doesn't want to see you. But since you refuse to leave, as the Underboss of the Rainier family, I should collect some interest for my sister." He drew a silver revolver from his waist, deftly swung out the cylinder, dumped the bullets, and left only three. Click. With a flick of his wrist, the cylinder spun wildly before snapping back into place. He tossed the gun into the mud at Alexander’s feet. "Russian Roulette. The oldest rule of the Mafia."

I cried out. “Too late.” I watched as Mr. Reyes uncorked a gun. I recognized that brand from movies— Russian Roulette. It could never miss. Straight to the target and could make anyone drop dead in less than a milli-second. By now, strings of tears have come out of my eyes. Swollen and puffy, my chest heaved in worry. And then I began to actually worry. What if Jackson was too late? And none of us made it out? What if we all died?