An Arranged Virgin for the Bratva (Zolotov Bratva #10)

Chapter 25 - Vladimir

The acrid smell of smoke stings my nostrils as I scan the chaos outside the factory. Workers mill about, their faces etched with fear and confusion. I force a reassuring smile, clasping shoulders and offering words of comfort.

"Everyone's safe; that's what matters," I say, my voice steady despite the worry gnawing at my gut.

My eyes dart to the exit of the eastern wing, where I last saw Sofia. I had followed her mere moments later but couldn’t find her.

Someone told me they’d seen her leave. Where is she, though? Everyone else is accounted for. The thought pounds in my head with each rapid beat of my heart.

"Vlad!" Denis calls out, striding toward me with Mark close behind. “We heard about the fire and came as soon as we could.”

But it’s the expressions on their faces, grim and worried, that send a chill down my spine.

"What is it?" I demand, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

Mark's eyes flick to the nearby workers before he lowers his voice. "I just got a call from our guys. The investigating team found traces of accelerant near the origin point in the eastern wing. This wasn't an accident."

My blood runs cold. "Intentional? You're certain?"

Denis nods, his jaw tight. "Multiple ignition points, strategically placed. Someone wanted this place to burn."

The implications hit me like a punch to the gut. If this was deliberate, then Sofia… My protective instincts surge, nearly overwhelming in their intensity.

"Sofia," I growl, my eyes scanning the crowd with renewed urgency. "Has anyone seen her?"

The silence that follows is deafening. My frustration mounts as worried glances are exchanged, but no answers are forthcoming.

I pivot, my mind racing as I survey the chaos around us. "Denis, Mark, gather the others. We need a command center, now."

They nod sharply and disperse without question. My leadership instincts kick in, pushing aside the gnawing fear for Sofia. I can't let emotion cloud my judgment, not when she needs me most.

Within minutes, my brothers and a handful of our most trusted men converge around me.

"Listen up," I bark, my voice cutting through the background noise of the firefighters in action. "We're setting up a field tent with full surveillance capabilities. I want eyes on every inch of this factory, past and present. Show every fireman a photo of Sofia. Make sure they’re looking for her. Tell whoever is able to walk around outside, see if they can find her."

Yuri, always quick on the uptake, interjects, "I can have our tech team patch in remotely. We'll have access to all CCTV footage."

I nod approvingly. "Make it happen. The rest of you secure the perimeter. No one in or out without my say-so. The only exception is if someone is severely injured and leaving via an ambulance."

As the men disperse to their tasks, I can't help but think of Sofia. I suck in a deep breath, the pain feeling like a stab in the chest. I clench my fists and dig my nails into my skin. I need to not feel. The thought of her in danger…

"We'll find her, Vlad," Denis says quietly, reading the tension in my shoulders.

I meet his eyes, allowing a moment of vulnerability. "We have to. If anything's happened to her…"

The words hang unfinished, but the fierce protectiveness in my tone speaks volumes.

Half an hour later, the makeshift command center buzzes with tense energy. Fingers fly over keyboards, voices murmur urgently, and the glow of multiple screens bathes us all in an eerie blue light. I stand behind the tech team, my hands gripping the back of a chair so tightly my knuckles have gone white. Every second that ticks by without a sign of Sofia feels like an eternity.

"Anything?" I growl, my patience wearing thin.

One of the techs glances up at me, his face pale. "We're combing through the footage as fast as we can, Sir. The east wing cameras were damaged in the fire, but we're piecing together what we can from—"

"There!" Another tech interrupts, pointing at his screen. "I've got movement in the back alley, time stamp matches our window."

I lean in, my heart pounding. The grainy footage shows a familiar figure—Sofia, her blonde hair unmistakable even in the poor quality of the video. She's moving with purpose, her tall, slim frame tense with determination.

I frown. What the hell is she doing back there?

But then I see him. Alexei Volkov, emerging from the shadows like a nightmare made flesh.

"Sofia, no," I breathe, watching helplessly as she confronts him. Her stance is defiant, and I can almost hear the sarcasm in her voice as she faces off against an enemy with the most cause to hurt us.

The confrontation is brief and brutal. Volkov moves with a speed that belies his bulk, and Sofia—for all her spirit—is no match for him physically. I watch in horror as he overpowers her defense and attack strategies, her limp form cradled almost gently in his arms as he carries her away.

"Track that vehicle!" I roar, pointing at the black SUV that pulls up moments later. "I want satellite imagery, traffic cam footage, anything! We are not losing them!"

Yuri nods curtly, barking out orders to the tech team as they scramble to bring up satellite feeds and enhance the grainy images of Volkov's vehicle.

As for me? I can’t think straight. My mind races with scenarios of what Alexei could do to Sofia. The fear clenches at my gut, a cold dread that sucks the life out of me.

In this moment, I know that life would cease to exist without her. In such a short time, she’s already become my world. My family.

She’s the woman I love, god damn it.

"She's strong, Vlad," Denis says quietly beside me, a hand resting on my shoulder in a rare show of brotherly comfort.

My jaw tenses as I watch the screen, willing Sofia to be okay. "She shouldn't have been there in the first place. Damn it, she's too impulsive."

Rage burns hot in my veins—at Volkov for daring to touch her, at Sofia for her reckless bravery. But beneath it all, fear coils like a cold snake around my heart.

"Damn it, Sofia," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "Why couldn't you just stay put?"

Denis squeezes my shoulder and Mark comes and stands next to us in solidarity.

Mark catches my eye, his expression grim. "Brother, we'll find her. Sofia's tough."

I nod, trying to draw strength from his words. "She is. But she's also in over her head."

My hand moves instinctively to my phone. “I should call Abram, get the full weight of the Bratva behind this. Ivan, Mikhail, Sergei—they have resources that beat ours,” I tell my brothers.

My finger hovers over the screen, but something in Denis and Mark’s expression holds me back.

"Vlad," Mark's voice cuts through my indecision. He steps forward with Denis at his side. "Let us handle this. We've got contacts, skills—we can track them down faster than any official channels."

I take a deep breath, my mind racing. Can I really entrust Sofia's safety to these two? My instinct to protect her wars with the memory of her icy glares and her stubborn insistence on proving herself.

I think of how hard she fought to be deemed worthy, and how she surpassed even the best of the best. Now, my brothers stand where she once did.

It’s a strange turn of events. How Sofia, even when gone, is turning me to be a better man.

I eye them warily. "You're sure about this?"

Denis nods firmly. "We're your best shot at getting to Sofia quickly and quietly. Trust us."

"Alright," I say, pocketing my phone. "Let’s hear it."

Denis steps forward, his eyes gleaming with a predatory intelligence I've never fully appreciated before. "We start with Volkov's known associates. I've got a contact in the port authority who owes me a favor. If Volkov's trying to move Sofia out of the city, we'll know and block those routes."

Mark nods, already pulling out his phone. "I'll activate our network of street informants. Someone will have seen something through the CCTV blind spots, and for the right price, they'll talk."

I listen, impressed despite myself. Their plan is methodical, leveraging connections I didn't even know they had. As they continue, outlining backup strategies and contingencies, I feel a grudging respect growing.

"And if we locate them?" I interject, needing to hear the endgame.

Denis's smile is cold. "Then we go in hard and fast. I've got a personal team on standby I’ve been experimenting with—ex-military, very discreet. We’ll make sure Volkov pays.”

I nod slowly, picturing Sofia's face—how afraid she must be, how brave a front she must be putting on. "Get your guys on it. We move in fifteen minutes."

***

The tent buzzes with activity as our men spring into action. Denis hunches over a laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as he taps into the street surveillance network. Mark barks orders into his phone, coordinating with his street contacts. I pace the length of the tent, overseeing it all, my mind racing.

"We need thermal imaging equipment," I call out. "And make sure everyone's armed. Volkov's not getting away this time."

A young tech approaches, tablet in hand. "Sir, we've mapped out potential routes based on the footage we got from the street cameras. Given traffic patterns and—"

"Good," I cut him off, scanning the data. "Cross-reference this with known Volkov and Crimson Crew properties. He'll want somewhere familiar, defendable."

As I turn, I think back to a moment earlier today—this morning when she put on a sequined jacket for a run. It was the most ridiculous jacket. How I’d laughed. Now, my throat tightens at the memory of her sarcastic quip this morning: "Worried I'll outshine you, old man?" Her voice echoes in my mind. God, what I wouldn't give to hear that snarky little tone right now.

"Brother?" Mark's voice pulls me back. "We're ready to move."

I nod sharply, pushing down the fear threatening to overwhelm me. "Let's go."

Stepping out of the tent, the cool night air hits my face. Our team falls in behind me, a dozen of our most trusted men, armed and ready. The weight of my pistol at my hip is reassuring.