Chapter 30 Ledger
LEDGER
The Henderson property acquisition is taking longer than expected.
I lean back in my office chair, listening to the lawyer drone on about zoning regulations and environmental impact studies. Across from me, the seller’s representatives look bored, checking their watches every few minutes.
“Mr. Volkov?” The lawyer pauses. “Do you agree to the revised timeline?”
“No.” I tap my pen against the desk. “The original timeline stands. Six weeks for permits, two months for inspections. If you can’t meet that, we’ll find another property.”
The seller’s lead representative shifts in his seat. “That’s not realistic given the current—”
“Then we’re done here.” I stand. “Silas will show you out.”
They scramble to their feet, backtracking immediately, but I’m no longer interested. The property is good but not irreplaceable. And I have better things to do than listen to excuses.
After they leave, I check my phone. No messages from Savannah. She should be back from shopping by now.
I dial her number. It rings four times before going to voicemail.
Probably trying on clothes or looking at baby furniture. She gets absorbed in those things, loses track of time.
I return to the contracts on my desk. The Rome expansion needs my signature, and there’s a shipment manifest from Eastern Europe that requires review. Numbers and logistics. The legitimate side of my empire that keeps everything else running smoothly.
My phone rings. Alexi.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, quick question. What did Savannah end up buying today? I want to see the nursery stuff she picked out.”
I pause, pen hovering over paper. “What?”
“The shopping trip. She said she was looking at cribs and changing tables. Did she find anything good?”
“When did she say this?”
“This morning. Around eleven. She told me she was going shopping for nursery furniture.” There’s confusion in his voice now. “Why? Is something wrong?”
I’m pulling up the tracker on my phone. The app that monitors Savannah’s location through her cell signal.
The pin drops on Marelli’s Restaurant.
Not a furniture store. Not a baby boutique. A restaurant.
“Dad? You there?”
“Where exactly did she say she was going?”
“Just shopping. She didn’t specify where. Said it would be a couple hours.” Alexi’s tone shifts. “What’s going on?”
I zoom in on the map. Her phone has been at Marelli’s for forty-three minutes. And according to the surveillance reports Silas sends me daily, Mason Porter was spotted in that area two hours ago.
Ice floods my veins.
“She’s not shopping,” I say quietly. “She’s meeting Mason.”
“What? No. She wouldn’t—”
“She lied to you. Told you she was shopping so you wouldn’t follow her.” I’m already grabbing my jacket, heading for the door. “Call Silas. Tell him to get every available man to Marelli’s. Now.”
“On it.”
I hang up and run for the elevator. Marcus is in the lobby, sees my face, and immediately moves toward the car.
“Marelli’s. Fast.”
He doesn’t ask questions. Just guns the engine and pulls into traffic.
I dial Savannah again. Still no answer.
Why would she meet Mason? After everything that happened the other day, after I explicitly told her to stay away from him, why would she agree to see him alone?
Because she wanted to handle it herself?
Now she’s sitting in a restaurant with a man who’s been tracking her movements, who grabbed her hard enough to leave bruises, who’s desperate enough to do anything.
A man who’s being backed by the Kozlovs.
My phone rings. Silas.
“I have three men five minutes from Marelli’s. Another four en route. What’s the situation?”
“Savannah lied about going shopping. She’s meeting Mason Porter at the restaurant. Alone. No security.”
Silas curses. “You think it’s a setup?”
“Mason doesn’t have the resources to keep finding her. Someone’s feeding him information. The Kozlovs want access to her, and she just walked right into their hands.”
“We’ll get her out.”
“If anything happens to her—” My voice comes out raw. “If they touch her, Silas, I’ll burn this entire city down.”
“I know. We’re moving.”
Traffic is thick. Marcus weaves between cars and runs a red light. Horns blare around us.
I pull up the surveillance photos from this morning. Mason enters Marelli’s at 11:47 AM. Savannah arrives at 12:15 PM. She’s been in there for over forty minutes now.
Too long. This should have been a quick conversation. Five minutes to tell him to leave her alone, then leave. Unless something’s wrong.
Unless he’s not letting her leave.
My phone buzzes with a text from one of Silas’s men: In position outside Marelli’s. No visual on target yet. Waiting for orders.
I call him directly. “Anton. What do you see?”
“The restaurant is busy. Lunch crowd. I can see through the windows but not the back booths. Want me to go in?”
“Not yet. Watch the exits. If she comes out, you follow her home. If anyone tries to take her, you stop them. Lethal force authorized.”
“Understood.”
Marcus takes a corner too fast. The tires screech. “Five minutes out, boss.”
I should have killed Mason when I had the chance. But I let Silas convince me to wait, to watch him, to use him to find the bigger threat.
And now my wife is in danger because I played it safe.
I dial Savannah again. This time it rings once and goes to voicemail.
“Drive faster.”
Marcus accelerates. We’re three minutes out now.
My phone rings. Unknown number.
I answer. “What?”
“Mr. Volkov.” The voice is smooth, accented. Russian. “I believe you’re looking for your wife.”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. “Who is this?”
“A friend. Someone who wants to help you understand that your family is vulnerable. That the people you love can be touched whenever we choose.”
Dmitri Kozlov.
“If you hurt her—”
“I’m not going to hurt her. Not today. Today is just a demonstration. A reminder that you killed my brother and left nothing for us to bury. That debts like that don’t disappear.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Perhaps. However, first, you should know that my men are currently in that restaurant. Sitting three tables away from your pregnant wife. They’ve been watching her argue with Mason.”
“If they touch her—”
“They won’t. Not today. Today is just a message. But soon, Mr. Volkov, very soon, we’re going to take everything you love. And you’ll understand exactly how my family felt when you burned my brother to ash.”
The line goes dead.
“Go!” I shout at Marcus. “Now!”