Chapter 17
NIKO
“N iko, I’ve hit paydirt!”
Darian’s voice wakes me from the doze I’ve fallen into through lack of sleep, and I snap awake with minor disorientation. I blink rapidly, forcing my eyes to focus on my brother’s face as he leans over me.
"What is it?" I demand, sitting up straight and feeling a surge of adrenaline course through my veins.
"I finally picked up a trace on Lyah's phone. It's pinging off a tower in Miami."
My heart leaps into my throat. After days of fruitless searching, this could be the break we need. I spring to my feet, already reaching for my jacket.
"Miami? What the fuck is she doing there? Where exactly? Are you sure it’s her?" I ask, my mind racing with too many questions all at once. I push them aside, focusing on the task at hand.
I follow Darian to his office where he taps furiously at his keyboard, pulling up a map on the large screen in front of us. "It's in the everglades, along the Tamiami Trail on US 41,” he explains. “The signal's weak, but it's definitely her phone. Whether it’s her…"
He trails off, but I know what he’s trying to say without the words, so I nod sharply, already formulating a plan. "Get the jet ready. We're wheels up in thirty minutes."
As Darian rushes to make the arrangements, I allow myself a moment of hope.
Lyah, my love, I'm coming for you. Hold on just a little longer.
In those seconds, I realize I absolutely mean it.
I’ve forced up a wall of indifference towards my wife in the three years we’ve been married, but the foundations of that wall have been eroded with the events of the past week.
However, there’s no time to think about it now, and what it all might mean.
Instead, I sprint to my room, hastily throwing essentials into a duffel bag. Weapons, cash, a change of clothes. My mind races through scenarios, and I don’t like where any of them lead. Why Miami? Is she hurt? Is she lost? Did someone take her? The questions gnaw at me, fueling my determination.
"Boss, we're ready," Darian calls from the hallway.
I zip the bag closed and sling it over my shoulder. "Let's move."
The drive to the airstrip is a blur. I bark orders into my phone, mobilizing my Miami contacts; a Bratva subsidiary which is mostly autonomous. Technically I’m their superior, although I rarely interfere.
Today, they’ll come in useful, though, because by the time we touch down, I want eyes on every inch of that godforsaken swamp, and they’ll be able to make that happen.
As the jet climbs into the night sky, I stare out the window, willing it to fly faster. The vast darkness below mirrors the void in my chest where Lyah should be. I clench my fists, rage simmering just beneath the surface.
"If someone took her…” I growl, more to myself than to Darian. “They'll wish they were never born."
Darian nods grimly, his fingers flying over his laptop as he works to pinpoint her location.
The flight feels interminable, each passing minute stretching into an eternity. I pace the cabin, unable to sit still, my mind churning with possibilities. What if we're too late? What if this is all a wild goose chase?
"Boss," Darian's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "I've got a more precise location. It's a small cluster of buildings off a dirt road, about two miles from the main highway."
I lean over his shoulder, studying the satellite image on his screen. The structures look dilapidated, barely more than shacks in the middle of nowhere. My gut twists. This isn't good.
"Any signs of activity?" I ask, my voice tight.
Darian shakes his head. "Nothing recent that I can see. But these images are from yesterday."
I nod, straightening up. "Have our people set up a perimeter. No one goes in or out until we arrive."
The pilot's voice crackles over the intercom, announcing our descent into Miami. I buckle in, my body thrumming with tension.
Hold on, Lyah. I'm almost there.
As soon as we touch down, I'm out of my seat, striding down the jet's stairs before they're fully extended. The humid Miami air hits me like a wall, but I barely notice. My focus is razor-sharp, every sense on high alert.
A black SUV idles on the tarmac, a local Bratva guy behind the wheel, and a brigadier by the name of Anatoly beside him. I slide into the backseat with Darian right behind me.
"Report," I bark as we peel away from the airstrip.
"We've got eyes on the location, boss," the driver, Yuri, says, his voice tense. "Camera picked up two vehicles blazing out of there with five heat signatures. We don’t know if it’s connected, but we’ve sent up another drone to cover the buildings while the first attempts to follow them.”
My heart rate kicks up a notch. “You think Emylyah’s in the vehicle?”
Anatoly shrugs. “It’s possible, but the phone trace hasn’t moved from the original location Darian sent us.”
I nod, my mind racing through tactical options. “Tell your men to track the vehicle, but don’t intercept,” I tell him. “I don’t want Emylyah caught in the crossfire if she’s in there.”
“You want us to follow the vehicle by road?” he asks, and I know a moment of indecision.
“No, just keep them under surveillance. Put men on them if you need to and notify me immediately if there’s anyone fitting the description of my wife. Meanwhile, we’ll check out these buildings.”
Because I know the game. If they took her there, they’ll have left her there.
It’s not likely they ever planned to move her.
You never move a captive more than necessary because every move calls more attention to you, so it’s too risky.
But as yet, there’s been no ransom, no threats or demands, so there’s a chance…
The SUV tears down the highway, weaving through late-night traffic. I grip the armrest, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. Every second feels like an eternity, but I force myself to breathe, to think clearly. I can't afford to lose control now.
"ETA?" I growl.
"Fifteen minutes, boss," Yuri responds.
I nod, turning to Darian. "What's the latest on the drone footage?"
He taps at his tablet, brow furrowed. "Still tracking the vehicles. They've split up, heading in different directions. No clear destination yet."
"And the buildings?"
"No movement detected. Heat signatures are minimal, could be animals or..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to. My mind fills in the blanks with horrific possibilities.
"Keep monitoring," I order, my voice low and dangerous. "I want to know the second anything changes. And see if we can get another drone on that second vehicle."