41. Chapter 32
Z asha
The floor creaks under my boots as I shift my weight. Ten hours. Ten hours in this goddamn room with nothing but caffeine, tension, and Lev breathing beside me.
I crouch by the window again, peering through the scope mounted on the tripod. It’s a beast—forty times magnification, eighty-millimeter objective lens. I can practically see the glint off Cristóbal’s cufflinks from more than a mile away.
But I’m not looking for him right now. I’m looking for Mara and the boy.
Lev lounges against the far wall, but he’s not relaxed. His fingers twitch near the stock of his rifle. His eyes haven’t drifted once. He might be joking under his breath now and then, but every nerve in his body is wound tight.
We’ve marked every guard change, every delivery van, every shadow that’s crossed that estate since we got here. But still no sign of her or the kid.
My phone vibrates and I answer without looking. “Yeah.”
“Do we have eyes on them yet?” Viktor’s voice is clipped and straight to the point.
“Not yet.”
“So that motherfucker’s got them locked in.” He curses quietly on the other end. “You let me know the second you do. This delay’s killing me.”
“You and me both.” I end the call.
My muscles ache, and my jaw is tight. I’ve clenched it for so long that I barely notice anymore. But I can’t move until I’m certain. I won’t risk a breach without knowing for sure that they are there.
I refocus on the scope, sweeping across the estate again. Every second that ticks by adds another weight to my spine. Lev says nothing, but I feel him glance my way.
“You breathing over there?” he asks, voice low.
“Barely.”
I adjust the focus again, zeroing in on a movement near the west courtyard. It’s nothing—just a guard lighting a cigarette.
My trigger finger twitches anyway. Because I know she’s in there. I can feel it like a pull in my blood. He has her. And every second I don’t act is a second she’s living in hell.
Another movement catches my eye, and I swing the scope back toward the main entrance as Cristóbal steps into view, flanked by two guards. He’s smiling, gesturing, and feeling cocky as ever. And beside him is Mara.
Finally.
I zoom in.
She has on a light blue top and Navy blue trousers. Her Jewelry glints in the sun, and she is tightly clutching a purse in her hand.
My fingers curl against the window ledge as I watch her walk half a step behind him. She’s poised, calm, her chin held high, and her movements are smooth.
Maybe a tad too smooth.
I zoom in behind her and notice the boy isn’t with them.
Where is he?
My eyes sweep the doorway, the flanks, the windows behind them. Nothing. No sign of him. Panic starts to claw at my throat, but I shove it down. I have to focus and think.
Cristóbal’s got one hand tucked into his jacket pocket. The other hovers casually behind Mara’s back. A possessive gesture disguised as nothing. She doesn’t flinch and doesn’t pull away. Because she can’t.
The absence of that child—my son—confirms what I’ve suspected for days. He’s not just keeping them. He’s using the boy to keep her in line.
My rage simmers lower now, focused and intensified. I don’t just want to retrieve them.
I want to end him.
I barely blink before the next movement catches my eye.
Cristóbal turns to Mara, his hand lifting—palm open and raised high.
My breath seizes. Time halts.
If he dares hit her, those hands will be the first thing I cut off from his corpse.
Rage floods my chest like kerosene meeting fire. My hand flies to the rifle beside me, finger already slipping toward the trigger.
But he doesn’t strike. Instead, he lowers his hand and pulls out his phone. I watch as he makes a call, holding the device like a weapon. Seconds later, Mara flings herself into his arms and kisses him.
No.
My vision tunnels. Everything else disappears. I see only them. Her hands are clinging to his chest, and his mouth is on hers. My blood turns to molten steel even though I know she’s kissing him under duress.
“Zasha,” Lev says sharply. “Don’t.”
I don’t hear him. My body lunges forward, but Lev grabs my arm. “Don’t blow this.”
I am going to kill this fool a hundred different ways.
“She’s kissing him because he’s holding something over her,” Lev says, voice taut. “Probably the boy.”
I close my eyes for half a second.
“She’s not free,” Lev says. “This confirms our suspicions.”
I nod once. But inside me, there’s no calm. Only fire. Because now, I’m not just thinking about getting her and the boy out. I’m thinking of how to make Cristóbal pay. And death is the kindest thing I can offer him.
I signal to Lev. “Call Viktor. Tell him we have confirmation.”
Lev doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs the encrypted phone and hits the line.
The call connects quickly. Viktor’s voice cuts in, sharp. “I’m done with the meeting and already on my way.”
That’s all he says. That’s all he needs to.
Fifteen minutes later, we hear the quiet tread of his arrival. Viktor steps into the room like a storm walking on legs. He barely glances around.
“Show me what you’ve got.”
I don’t speak. I step aside and let him look through the scope. He exhales once through his nose. That sound means it’s worse than he thought.
“Let us discuss our mission,” he says, pulling away from the scope.
We discuss guard rotations, blind spots, and entry points. The shift schedules Lev managed to intercept from one of Cristóbal’s hacked communications are laid out. We spread the intel across the floor and begin plotting every angle of attack.
This isn’t just brute force. This is precision.
Every move must be clean, coordinated, and absolute.
Cristóbal may have built himself a fortress. But he didn’t build it strong enough to keep me out.
I peer into the scope and see the car start to move. The gate slides open as their vehicle rolls out. My pulse tics as I track it, every muscle in my body wired tight.
I grab my comm. “Anton,” I say, voice calm but firm. “Target just left. Follow them carefully. Stay two vehicles back. If anything changes, you pull out. Don’t engage. We still need the boy inside.”
Anton replies with a crisp, “Copy that.”
Cristóbal thinks he’s untouchable. That he’s the one in charge, but he forgot one thing.
He’s not dealing with a soldier.
He’s dealing with a predator.
And I don’t look away from prey.