I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white. The road stretches out before me, dark and endless, and my mind races with a mix of rage and frustration. How the fuck did I let this happen?
Sophia’s gone. Kidnapped. From under my nose.
My phone buzzes beside me, but I ignore it, too focused on the road. Artem is back at the office, scouring CCTV footage, trying to piece together where she was taken, how this all happened. I’ve got men spread out across the city, combing through every possible lead, but so far, nothing. Not a single clue as to who took her or where they’re keeping her.
It’s a sick twist of fate, really. I took her once—kidnapped her for my own revenge. And now, she’s been taken from me. The irony isn’t lost on me, but the rage bubbling beneath my skin is too intense to care about the irony. All I care about is getting her back.
Her phone’s off. They can’t track it. Whoever’s taken her knows exactly what they’re doing.
I press harder on the gas, the car speeding down the empty road as I search for anything that might give me a lead. The last thing I heard from Artem was that her car had been found, hidden off the side of a road just outside the city. It’s where I’m headed now, hoping like hell there’s something—anything—that can give us a clue.
I arrive at the scene, pulling off the road and parking beside Sophia’s car. My men are already here, a few of them standing around, scanning the area. The car’s been pushed off the road, out of sight, like someone wanted to make sure it wouldn’t be easily found.
I step out of my car, my jaw clenched tight as I approach the vehicle. My heart pounds in my chest, a rare feeling of dread creeping up my spine. I can’t remember the last time I felt this helpless.
“Boss,” one of my men says as I approach. “We found her car, but no sign of her or anyone else.”
I nod, barely listening. My mind is already working through a dozen different scenarios, none of them good.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Have Artem scan the CCTV footage from the nearest cameras. Anything in the area, I want to know if a car was following her, or if she was forced off the road.”
The man nods, pulling out his phone to relay the orders. I crouch down next to Sophia’s car, my fingers brushing over the door handle. The door’s unlocked, slightly ajar. I open it, peering inside. There’s nothing out of place—no sign of a struggle, no blood, no obvious clues.
Something doesn’t sit right.
“Artem,” I say into my phone, dialing him directly. “I need those CCTV scans. Any traffic cameras nearby. I want every angle, every possible lead.”
“Already on it,” Artem’s voice crackles through the line. “There’s a camera about a mile down the road, one that catches the intersection she would’ve passed through. I’m pulling it now.”
I stand up, pacing around the car, my mind working overtime. Sophia wouldn’t have just driven off like this, not without telling someone, not without leaving a clue. Something’s wrong. She’s been taken, and whoever did it covered their tracks well.
Minutes pass like hours as I wait for Artem’s update. My men are combing the nearby area, searching for any sign of where she could’ve been taken. My heart is pounding hard, frustration boiling over.
Finally, Artem’s voice comes through again. “Got something.”
I stop pacing, my heart leaping. “What is it?”
“There’s footage from the intersection a mile down. A car pulled over. Dark-colored, no plates visible. Sophia pulled up beside it to help the driver. Looks like a woman.”
I frown. A woman? That wasn’t what I expected.
“I’m sending the footage over to your phone now,” Artem continues. “It’s grainy, but you can make out the general details.”
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I open the video Artem sent. Sure enough, there’s Sophia’s car, pulled over on the side of the road. Another car is beside it, and a woman gets out. Sophia walks toward the woman’s car, and they appear to talk for a moment.
Then, once the woman’s tire is fixed, the two of them disappear from view Behind the vehicle.
The car pulls away, with Sophia inside it.
“Any idea who this woman is?” I ask, my voice tight.
“Working on it,” Artem replies. “She could’ve been a decoy, maybe someone who Sophia thought was just offering help. From the way they’re acting, it looks like Sophia went willingly.”
I curse under my breath, watching the footage over and over. Something about the woman seems familiar, but I can’t place it.
“I’ll keep digging,” Artem says. “See if I can find any more footage from other cameras along the route.”
I hang up, frustration boiling over. This wasn’t a random kidnapping. It was planned, carefully executed. They knew how to take her without drawing attention.
I slam my fist against the roof of Sophia’s car, anger coursing through me. I’ve been too soft. Too fucking soft with her. I let my guard down, thinking that maybe—just maybe—things could be normal between us. That I could keep her safe without hovering over her every second.
I should’ve known better.
“Boss,” one of my men calls out, walking toward me. “Artem’s sending more footage. Looks like the car was seen heading toward the old docks outside of town.”
The docks. It makes sense—secluded, no traffic, and plenty of places to hide. My gut tightens with renewed determination.
“Get the men ready,” I order. “We’re going to the docks.”
***
The car speeds down the dark, narrow road, the engine roaring as we push it to its limits. My thoughts are racing just as fast, my jaw clenched tight with the frustration burning inside me. It was the Italians. Has to be.
Of course, it was. They’ve been a thorn in our side for too long, and now, with the alliance between the Russians and the American Mafia, they’ve got even more reason to strike. They see Sophia as the key to weakening us. If they kill her, the alliance crumbles, and we lose everything.
“They’ll want to kill her,” Artem says from the passenger seat, his voice tight with tension. “That’s the only way to end the alliance.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I won’t let that happen. I won’t lose her.
“Drive faster,” I growl.
Artem presses harder on the gas, and the car surges forward, the tires screeching as we take a sharp turn. My mind races, thinking through every possibility, every way this could end. The Italians had a reason for taking her—they’re sending a message. And if we don’t get to her in time, that message will be her dead body.
I can’t let that happen. Not to her.
Beside me, Timur sits in the back, staring out the window, his face calm but his eyes focused. He knows what’s at stake. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the tension radiating off him too. We’re all thinking the same thing—this alliance is on the edge of a knife, and if Sophia dies, the entire foundation of our power crumbles with it.
My phone buzzes in my lap, and I snatch it up, putting it on speaker. Artem and Timur both glance at me as I answer.
“Boss,” a familiar voice says. “We found more footage from the docks.”
“Go on,” I say, my voice sharp, my patience already thin.
“There’s a warehouse at the edge of the dockyard. From the looks of it, that’s where they took her. We’ve got men heading there now, but it looks heavily guarded.”
I grit my teeth, frustration bubbling over. “I don’t care how many men they’ve got. We’re going in.”
“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Timur responds before hanging up.
I toss the phone aside, the tension in the car thickening. Artem glances over at me, his foot still pressed down on the gas pedal.
“Ten minutes,” he says quietly. “You think she’ll make it?”
I don’t answer, not because I don’t know, but because I refuse to entertain the thought of her not making it. I refuse to let that possibility exist.
“She has to,” I mutter, my eyes narrowing at the road ahead. “She fucking has to.”
Timur speaks up from the back, his voice calm but laced with cold determination. “It’s not just the alliance we’re saving. If the Italians think they can pull this off, they’ll do it again. We need to send a message just as strong.”
“Agreed,” Artem adds. “We take them down hard.”
I nod, my mind already locked on the plan. This isn’t just a rescue mission—it’s retaliation. A reminder that no one crosses the Bratva and lives to tell the tale. Fernando Vinci and his men are about to learn that lesson the hard way.
The lights of the dockyard come into view as we approach, the silhouette of a sprawling industrial complex looming ahead. This is it.
The car screeches to a stop a few blocks from the warehouse, hidden behind a row of abandoned containers. My men are already here, blending into the shadows as they prepare for the ambush. Artem, Timur, and I step out, the cool night air biting at my skin as I survey the scene.
Timur approaches, his face set in grim determination. “The warehouse is guarded. Heavy security, probably about fifteen men inside, give or take.”
“Good,” I say, my voice a low growl. “They won’t be expecting us.”
We gather around, formulating a plan in hushed tones. The goal is clear—get in, take out the Italians, and get Sophia out alive. Everything else is secondary. My mind is a laser-focused storm of rage and strategy, the image of Sophia’s pale, frightened face flashing in my head.
“They’ll have her tied up,” Artem says quietly, his jaw tight. “Probably in the center of the room, surrounded by guards.”
“Then we’ll surround them,” I reply. “Take them out one by one, quietly at first, then move in for the kill.”
“Maxim,” Timur says, catching my eye. “We go in hard and fast, but they won’t hesitate to kill her if they feel threatened.”
“I know.” My voice is ice-cold. “That’s why we won’t give them the chance.”
We split into two groups, moving through the shadows toward the warehouse. The sound of the ocean is the only thing breaking the silence, a haunting reminder of how close we are to the edge—both literally and figuratively. Every step feels like a countdown to something inevitable.
I lead the charge, my eyes locked on the massive building ahead, my heart pounding with the same intensity as my anger. There’s no room for hesitation. No room for mistakes.
We reach the warehouse, crouching low as we creep toward the back entrance. Artem takes out one of the guards with a swift, silent strike, his body crumpling to the ground without a sound. We move quickly, efficiently, taking down the perimeter guards one by one.
Once we reach the door, Timur nods at me, signaling that the way is clear. I grip the handle, my knuckles whitening from the force.
This is it.
I take a deep breath, the only thing on my mind now is Sophia—and the blood I’m about to spill for her.
With a sharp twist, I push the door open.