Chapter 15 - Abram
A sob pierces the air, shattering the sanctity of this place I thought was safe. I freeze, the pliers in my hand suddenly heavy as lead. I turn toward the door, my heart pounding in my chest.
There she stands—Zara, her face as pale as fresh snow, her eyes wide with horror. My beautiful, innocent Zara. The sight of her hits me like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of me.
Her gaze is fixed on the bloody scene behind me. I step forward to explain.
That small movement breaks the spell. Zara's eyes snap to mine, filled with a primal fear that cuts me to the core. Before I can say another word, she spins on her heel and bolts.
"Zara, wait!" I call out, but she's already gone, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.
I curse under my breath, my mind racing. How did she find me here? How could I have been so careless? The panic in her eyes haunts me, spurring me into action.
The pliers slip from my fingers, clattering to the floor. I barely register Vladimir's confused shout as I sprint after Zara, my heart pounding in my chest. The hallway stretches before me, endless and accusing.
"Damn it," I mutter, pushing my legs harder. I can't let her go, not like this. Not when she's seen… God, what has she seen?
I have to catch her, to explain, to make her understand. But even as I move to follow, a part of me knows it's too late. The innocence in her eyes is gone, replaced by a knowledge that can never be unlearned. And I'm the one who stole it from her.
I burst through the front doors, the cool night air hitting my face. My eyes scan the parking lot frantically, searching for any sign of her. There—a flash of golden hair in the dim streetlight. She's running toward her beaten-up Honda, fumbling to find her keys in her bag.
"Zara, please! Let me explain!" I call out desperately, my voice echoing in the empty lot. She freezes for a split second but never turns. She keeps running ahead.
I’m about to break into a jog after her when I’m momentarily distracted by the sudden screech of tires. My head whips left to see a black van careening into the parking lot, its headlights off. It comes to an abrupt stop just feet away from Zara, the side door already sliding open.
"What the hell?" I mutter, my body tensing instinctively. This isn't right. This isn't part of any plan I know.
Before I can react, two masked figures leap from the van. They move with practiced efficiency, grabbing Zara roughly by her arms. Her scream pierces the night air.
"Zara!" I roar, lunging forward. But it's like I'm moving through molasses, every step too slow, too late. "Zara!"
I watch in helpless horror as they shove her into the van. Her wide, terrified eyes lock with mine for a split second before the door slams shut. The van's tires squeal as it peels away, leaving nothing but the acrid smell of burnt rubber.
"ZARA!" I scream again, my voice raw with desperation. But it's futile. The van disappears into the night, taking her with it. Taking my heart with it.
I stand there, chest heaving, fists clenched at my sides. "Fuck," I growl, running a hand through my hair. She’s been kidnapped. My mind races. Who took her? Why?
I burst back into the warehouse, my heart pounding like a war drum. Vladimir's there, still torturing the traitor.
He turns when I slam open the door.
"Call Denis and Mark. Now," I bark. "We've got a situation."
Vladimir eyes me warily. "What's going on, Brother? Where’s Zara"
"Someone took her," I spit out, pacing like a caged animal. "Some fuckers just snatched Zara off the street. We need all hands on deck."
I toss him my phone, my fingers itching for action. "Get our brothers here. Then, call Yuri and tell him to get the tech team working on the CCTV feeds along the streets. Hack them now. I want eyes on that van yesterday."
Vladimir fumbles with the phone, his fingers flying over the screen. "On it. But who would—"
"I don't know," I cut him off, my voice razor-sharp. "But they're going to regret ever laying hands on her."
The next few minutes are a blur of activity. I bark orders into my spare burner phone, mobilizing every resource at my disposal. My mind races, considering and discarding possibilities. Who would dare cross me like this?
Vladimir's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Tech team's on it. They're accessing the street cameras now."
I nod, logging into the feed link. The screen flickers to life, showing a grid of grainy street views. My eyes scan frantically, searching for any sign of that damn van.
"There!" I point, spotting a blur of motion in the bottom right corner. "Track it."
Vladimir delivers the message.
The image zooms in, following the van as it weaves through traffic. My fists clench at my sides, impotent rage building with each second that passes.
"Come on, come on," I mutter, willing the van to reveal its destination. Every moment feels like an eternity, knowing Zara's in there, terrified and alone.
"We've got a problem," Yuri's voice crackles through the speakers. "They're approaching a dead zone. No cameras for the next five blocks."
"Shit!" I slam my fist against the wall, the pain barely registering. "Keep monitoring. They have to resurface somewhere."
As we wait, tension thick in the air, I can't help but think of Zara's face when she saw me earlier. The shock, the fear… I never wanted her to see that side of me. And now, because of my world, she's in danger.
I swear silently, a vow burning in my chest. I'll find her. I'll bring her home. And God help anyone who tries to stand in my way.
“Come, Brother,” Vladimir says. “We need to get in a car and follow where we can. Denis and Mark are coming from the other direction.”
We leave our prisoner where he belongs, not paying him a second thought, and rush to the car. Once inside, my phone buzzes, Denis's voice crackling through. "We've got visual on 5th and Maple. Black van, tinted windows. Moving fast."
"We’re on it," I growl, already sprinting for my car. The engine roars to life as I peel out of the lot, tires screeching.
Mark's voice joins the comm. "I've got the south exit covered. They're not getting past me."
I weave through empty, my heart pounding in sync with the urgency of the situation. "Talk to me, Denis. Where are they now?"
"Heading east on Broadway. You're gaining on them, Abram."
I spot the van ahead, a dark smudge against the neon-lit street. "I see them. Mark, cut them off at the intersection."
As if choreographed, Mark's SUV appears from a side street, forcing the van to swerve. I use the moment to close the gap, ramming into their rear bumper.
The van fishtails, tires squealing. I see the driver struggling to regain control.
"Now, Denis!" I shout.
Denis's car emerges from an alley, T-boning the van. The impact is deafening, metal crunching against metal.
I'm out of my car in seconds, gun drawn. "Zara!" I yell, wrenching open the van's side door.
She's there, bound and gagged, eyes wide with fear and relief. I pull her into my arms, feeling her trembling against me.
"I've got you," I murmur, my voice rough with emotion. "You're safe now."
As I turn to deal with the kidnappers, my triumph turns to ash. The driver's seat is empty, the passenger door hanging open. The rest must have escaped from the front.
"Fuck!" I spit, scanning the area. But the streets are empty, the bastards having used the chaos to slip away.
Denis approaches, his face grim. "They're in the wind, Abram. We lost them."
I clench my jaw, fury and frustration warring inside me. We got Zara back, but at what cost? The threat is still out there, faceless and unknown.
"We'll find them," I vow, meeting my brother's eyes. "Whatever it takes."
And then, I turn to Zara. She looks at me with wide, harrowed eyes as I remove her mouth gag while Vladimir cuts off the ropes around her wrists.
***
The adrenaline fades, leaving a gnawing pit in my stomach. Guilt claws at me as I watch Zara huddled in the seat next to me. I should have told her. I should have prepared her for this world I've dragged her into.
"Zara," I whisper, reaching out to touch her hand. She flinches, and it's like a knife to my heart. "I'm so sorry."
Her eyes flicker to mine, confusion and fear swimming in their depths. "Why?" her voice is raw from screaming. "Who were they? What do they want?”
I swallow hard, the weight of my secrets pressing down on me. "I don’t know who they were," I manage, hating how inadequate the words sound.
“Do you know why they might have wanted me?” she asks, not bothering to look in my direction, her voice dull and lifeless.
“It’s…complicated.”
Zara lets out a strangled laugh that borders on hysteria. "Complicated? I just saw you nearly kill a man and I was just kidnapped, Abram. I think I deserve more than 'complicated'."
"You're right," I nod, running a hand through my hair. "You do. And I'll tell you everything, I promise. But first, we need to get you somewhere safe."
As we drive back to my duplex, I can't help but notice how Zara's hands tremble, how she startles at every sudden noise. The strong, vibrant woman I've come to care for seems diminished, fragile.
"How long?" I ask softly, dreading the answer.
She looks at me, confusion clouding her features. "How long what?"
"How long will it take for you to feel safe again? To trust me again?" The questions hang in the air between us, heavy with unspoken fears and regrets.
Zara turns away, staring out the window at the passing city lights. "I don't know," she whispers, and I can hear the pain in her voice. "I don't know anything anymore."
***
I guide Zara into my penthouse, my hand hovering at the small of her back, not quite touching. She's still trembling, her eyes darting around the room as if expecting danger to leap out from every shadow. My chest tightens at the sight.
"You're safe here," I murmur, leading her to the plush sofa. "I promise."
She sinks into the cushions, looking small and fragile. I grab a soft blanket and drape it over her shoulders, my fingers lingering for just a moment, but she reconciles as though to let me know she doesn’t feel safe with me.
It stabs at my heart, but how can I expect her to forget what she saw?
I stand back and ask gently. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?"
Zara shakes her head, her gaze finally meeting mine. "What I need, is a moment,” she says, in a stony voice.
I nod, settling beside her, close but not touching. We sit in silence for a long while, the only sound is our quiet breathing and the faint hum of the city below.
Finally, Zara speaks, her voice sharp. "Who were you torturing, Abram?"
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "He wasn’t a good man, Zara. He’s a criminal of the lowest kind.”
She lets out a bitter laugh. "Clearly. And what are you? Some kind of hero with pliers going at a man bound to a chair?”
"It's more complicated than that," I start, then catch myself at her sharp look. "But no, I’m no hero.”
“What did he do?”
I sigh and look away, not knowing how to answer her.
“What kind of family business do you run?” Her line of reasoning gets more urgent, more furious. “What other secrets are you keeping from me, Abram? God damn it, who the hell are you?”
This is it, the moment of truth. Any idea I had to keep my world from her now seems like a foolish thought in retrospect. She’s seen too much, been through enough. If I don’t tell her everything now, consequences be damned, I’d be dishonoring her experience in the worst possible way.
And so, even though every molecule in my body is begging me to find a way to lie my way out of this, to guarantee her presence by my side, I decide to put her needs first.
“I’m not who you think I am,” I try to break it to her gently. “I'm part of an organization. We have… business interests that aren't always legal. But, we maintain order. We never hurt innocents. We try to do good where we can."
“What form of an organization?” she asks, voice trembling.
“It’s… The Bratva,” I say, my voice choking as I do.
Zara's head whips in my direction, eyes wide with shock. "The Bratva? You're… you're part of the Russian mafia?"
I nod slowly, watching her face carefully. "I'm one of the leaders, actually."
She stands abruptly, the blanket falling to the floor. "Oh God. Oh God, I can't… I can't believe this."