Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
KALEB
Istared at my phone, willing it not to ring. Not to buzz. Not to light up with another message from Patrice's lawyer or the DA's office or—
It rang.
My stomach dropped. But when I glanced at the screen, Sierra's name flashed across it instead.
"Hey," I answered, keeping my voice level despite the immediate spike of anxiety. "Everything okay?"
"Keeley's missing."
The world tilted. I gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles going white.
"What do you mean missing?" My voice came out sharper than intended. "Sierra, what happened?"
Her words tumbled out in a frantic rush. "I went to pick her up from daycare like always, but they said someone already got her. They said I signed the authorization form, but Kaleb, I didn't—I would never—"
"Slow down." I was already on my feet, grabbing my suit jacket. "When did this happen?"
"Twenty minutes ago. I called the police, but they said since she's with someone on the approved pickup list—" A sob choked off her words. "But I didn't approve anyone! The signature isn't even mine!"
Patrice. It had to be.
My free hand clenched into a fist so tight my nails bit into my palm. That bitch had crossed every line, and now she'd taken my niece.
My two-year-old niece.
"I'm going to fix this," I said, forcing calm into my voice even as rage boiled beneath my skin. "Sierra, I promise you, we're going to bring Keeley home."
"How?" Her voice cracked. "Kaleb, what if she hurts her? What if—"
"She won't." I couldn't let myself think about that possibility. Couldn't let that fear take root. "Patrice wants money, not to hurt Keeley. This is leverage, nothing more."
Even as I said it, doubt gnawed at me. Patrice had already tried to poison us. What other lines was she willing to cross?
"Stay where you are," I instructed, already heading for the door. "I'm bringing Andrei. We'll handle this."
I ended the call and burst into the hallway, nearly colliding with Andrei who was coming out of his office.
"Kaleb?" He took one look at my face and his expression hardened. "What happened?"
"Keeley's been taken from daycare. Someone forged Sierra's signature on a pickup authorization."
Andrei's jaw tightened, but he didn't waste time with questions. He simply pulled out his phone, already dialing as we strode toward the elevator.
"Sergei," he said in Russian the moment the call connected. "We need Mikhail. Now."
I could hear Sergei's voice through the phone—quick, clipped questions that Andrei answered in rapid-fire Russian too fast for me to follow. But I caught the important words: devochka (girl), pokhishchenie (kidnapping), Patrice.
The elevator doors opened. We stepped inside.
"Mikhail's on his way to Sierra's last known location," Andrei said, switching back to English. "He'll track the daycare's security footage, find the vehicle—"
"It's Patrice," I interrupted. "It has to be."
"Most likely." Andrei's expression was carved from stone, but I recognized the cold fury simmering beneath. He'd seen this kind of thing before—in his old life. "But we need proof before we move."
The elevator descended, each floor marked by a soft chime that felt like an eternity.
My phone buzzed. A text from Andrei to our group chat.
Andrei: Keeley's been taken. Meeting Kaleb in garage. Will update soon.
Almost immediately, Colby responded.
Colby: What? How? Do we need to come?
Andrei: Not yet. Stay with Lottie. Keep her safe.
Smart. If Patrice was desperate enough to take Keeley, she might try for Lottie next.
The elevator doors opened to the parking garage. Oscar was already there, the Audi running.
"Mikhail called," he said simply as we climbed in. "I'm taking you to Sierra's house."
I nodded, unable to form words past the fury and fear warring in my chest.
Andrei's phone rang. He answered in Russian, his tone clipped. I watched his face, trying to read the conversation.
Whatever Mikhail was saying, it wasn't good. Andrei's expression grew progressively darker, his free hand clenching into a fist on his thigh.
When he finally ended the call, he turned to me.
"Security footage shows a woman matching Patrice's description picking up Keeley," he said. "She used a forged authorization with Sierra's signature. The daycare didn't question it because the signature looked legitimate."
"Of course it did." Patrice had probably practiced it. Studied Sierra's handwriting until she could replicate it perfectly. "Where did she take her?"
"Unknown." Andrei's jaw worked. "But Mikhail's tracking her car. He's got eyes on traffic cameras across the city."
The car couldn't move fast enough. Every red light felt like a personal attack. Every delay another moment Keeley was in Patrice's hands.
My phone buzzed again. This time, an unknown number.
I answered without thinking. "Hello?"
"Kaleb." Patrice's voice slithered through the speaker, syrupy sweet and venomous. "I was wondering when you'd figure it out."
Every muscle in my body locked. Beside me, Andrei leaned closer, his expression lethal.
"Where is she?" I bit out.
"Your niece? She's perfectly safe. For now." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Such a sweet little thing. Looks just like Sierra at that age. My precious little granddaughter."
"If you hurt her—"
"Oh, calm down," Patrice interrupted. "I'm not a monster. I just need you to understand how serious I am."
"About what?" Keep her talking. Give Mikhail time to trace the call.
Andrei had already pulled out his own phone, texting rapidly.
"About getting what I'm owed," Patrice hissed, her sweet facade cracking. "You cut me off, Kaleb. Your own mother. Left me to drown in debt while you play house with your little whore and her other lovers."
I bit down on my rage, forcing my voice to stay level. "The money's gone, Patrice. I transferred everything to Sierra and Monica's trusts. There's nothing left for you."
"Then you'll find a way to get it back." Her voice turned cold. "Two million dollars. Same as before. You have twenty-four hours."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I wonder how long it takes to sell a pretty little girl on the black market." The casual way she said it made my blood run cold. "I'm sure someone would pay handsomely for—"
"Don't." The word came out as a growl. "Don't you fucking dare finish that sentence."
Andrei's hand landed on my shoulder, grounding me before I completely lost control.
"Twenty-four hours," Patrice repeated. "I'll send wiring instructions. Oh, and Kaleb? Tell that Russian attack dog of yours to stop trying to trace this call. I'm not an idiot."
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, my hand shaking with barely suppressed rage.
"Mikhail got a partial trace," Andrei said quietly. "Lake Oswego area. He's narrowing it down."
Lake Oswego. Where Patrice and Rupert lived.
Of course she'd taken Keeley there. Right under our noses.
"We need to call Marshall," I said, my mind already racing through options. "Get a warrant, send police—"
"No time." Andrei's tone was flat. Final. "By the time we navigate legal channels, she could move Keeley. Or worse."
He didn't have to spell out what "worse" meant.
"Then what?" I demanded. "We can't just storm in there."
Andrei's expression shifted into something I'd only seen glimpses of before—the cold, calculated look of someone who'd done terrible things and would do them again if necessary.
"We can," he said quietly. "And we will."
He pulled out his phone, dialing a number I didn't recognize. When he spoke, it was in rapid Russian—low, urgent, commanding.
I caught enough to understand. He was calling in the full weight of Sergei's people. Not just Mikhail. An entire team.
Because this wasn't just about money anymore.
This was about family.
And the Volkovs—for all their darkness, all their violence—understood family.
Oscar pulled up to Sierra's house. She was waiting on the porch, Monica beside her. Both stood the moment they saw the car.
I was out before Oscar fully stopped, Sierra throwing herself into my arms.
"Did she call you?" she gasped against my chest. "Please tell me you heard from her."
"She called." I held her tight, feeling her shake. "Keeley's alive. Patrice has her at the Lake Oswego house."
"Then we need to—"
"We will," I promised. "But we need to do this smart. If we spook her—"
"She might run," Monica finished grimly. She looked pale but composed, her analytical mind already working through scenarios. "Or hurt Keeley to maintain leverage."
Andrei approached, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Mikhail will have eyes on the house within the hour. We'll know every entrance, every exit, every person inside."
Sierra pulled back, her eyes red but blazing with determination. "I'm coming with you."
"No." The word came from both Andrei and me simultaneously.
"She's my daughter!"
"Which is exactly why you need to stay here," I said firmly. "If something goes wrong—"
"Nothing will go wrong." Andrei's voice carried absolute certainty. "But Kaleb's right. You need to be somewhere safe. Somewhere Patrice can't use you as additional leverage."
Monica stepped forward, her hand finding Sierra's. "We'll wait together," she said quietly. "And when they bring Keeley home, we'll be here."
The certainty in her voice—the trust she placed in us despite barely knowing Andrei, despite the chaos of the situation—made something in my chest tighten.
My sisters believed in us.
Believed I could fix this.
I wouldn't let them down.
"Oscar will stay with you," Andrei said. "Plus two of Sergei's men. No one gets near this house."
Sierra looked like she wanted to argue, but Monica squeezed her hand. "Let them work," she said. "This is what they do."
Was it? I'd built a business empire. Andrei had escaped his violent past.
But standing here, watching Andrei coordinate with deadly efficiency, I realized he'd never truly left that world behind.
He'd just buried it.
Until now.
My phone buzzed. Mikhail.
Mikhail: Eyes on the house. Thermal imaging shows three heat signatures. One small—likely the child. Moving to position.
Beside me, Andrei's phone lit up with the same message.
Our eyes met.
"It's time," he said simply.
Time to get my niece back.
Time to end Patrice's reign of terror once and for all.
And God help anyone who tried to stop us.