Chapter 18 – Ivan
IVAN
Ikept my expression neutral as I surveyed the men around the conference table.
Vince Salvini sat directly across from me, his posture rigid, eyes cold and calculating.
Cristo Falcone lounged beside him with deceptive casualness that didn’t fool me for a second.
Matteo Salvini, Alex Falcone…Moretti, whatever the fuck last name he was going by, and Domenico Rossi, Vince Salvini’s best friend, completed their side of the table—a unified front of powerful men accustomed to getting their way.
“So let me get this straight,” Vince said, leaning forward. “Your mission was to irritate me into submission? Is that your usual MO? How’s that working out for you, Zotov?”
A ripple of chuckles spread around the table. Even Anton, seated beside me, couldn’t suppress a smile.
I ignored the jab. “My mission was to facilitate and reestablish cooperation between the Paraskia Syndicate and the Salvini Organization. The same applies to the Falcones and, by extension, the Morettis.” I nodded toward Alex, who raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment, which made him look even more threatening.
My gaze drifted to the door again. Roman should have brought Isabella by now. As soon as Grey took that phone call and excused himself, I sent him to get her. I didn’t trust Grey, not even for a minute.
At least, that’s what I told myself. The truth—which I was becoming increasingly harder to deny—was that not only didn’t I trust Grey, but I wanted her near me. In my line of sight. To know she was safe.
And where the fuck was Grey anyway? He should be the one leading this conversation, not me.
“Your grandfathers were founding members of the Paraskia Syndicate,” I continued, forcing my attention back to the meeting. “The organization was established to maintain global stability by leveraging the resources and networks of families like yours.”
“If our grandfathers were so invested in this organization,” Cristo interjected, “why the breakup? Why weren’t our fathers invited to join?”
I met his gaze head-on. “That’s something to ask Grey. But according to the files I’ve reviewed, they weren’t deemed…trustworthy enough.”
Matt snorted. “That’s diplomatic.”
“I’m not here to judge the decisions of previous generations,” I said. “I’m here to discuss the future. The Paraskia believes it is now time to renew the partnerships—”
The door burst open, cutting me off mid-sentence. Nina stood in the doorway, her face drained of color, breathing hard as if she’d sprinted across the compound.
“They took her,” she said, the words hitting me like a physical blow.
“Grey’s men. They dragged her from the pool area.
We tried to stop them, but they separated us, and they were armed.
” She took a shuddering breath. “We’ve got control of the situation now, thanks to Roman, but Isabella—they took her. ”
Something cold and visceral gripped my chest. My body reacted before my mind could process the implications, pushing back my chair and rising to my feet in one fluid motion.
Vince’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “And where do you think you’re going, Zotov?”
“To find out what the hell is happening,” I replied, already moving toward the door.
Vince was faster, positioning himself in the doorway, his muscular frame blocking my exit. “What do you know about this?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Was this your plan all along? Lure us all here to get to Isabella?”
Cristo and Matt joined him in blocking my exit. I felt a muscle jump in my jaw as I stared them down. “Not my plan,” I said, each word precise and measured. “But if she’s hurt, he will pay.”
The raw intensity in my voice surprised even me. Vince must have heard it, too—the unfiltered promise of violence. He studied me for a beat before stepping aside.
I pushed past him, already pulling out my phone and dialing Grey. The call went straight to voicemail. I tried again with the same result. Each unanswered ring stoked the fury building inside me.
Fucker.
Anton fell into step beside me as I strode through the building. “Get me the feed,” I ordered, and he nodded, fumbling with his phone while I led the way.
We bypassed the security center, a small, windowless room filled with monitors showing feeds from throughout the compound. Everything inside me screamed that I didn’t have the time or luxury to stop.
But pulling up the feed would be faster here.
I shouldered past the technician, scanned the screens until I found what I was looking for—footage from the pool area.
“Pull up the last hour,” I commanded.
The technician’s fingers flew across the keyboard. The screen flickered, showing Isabella lounging by the pool with the other women. I watched everyone look around, then Mila and Nina walking toward one of the exits, signaling to the others to stay seated.
As soon as Mila and Nina disappeared through the gate, it closed, locking them out, and six armed men appeared, surrounding the women. The women resisted—Shorty positioning herself protectively in front of the others. Shit, couldn’t she for once just protect herself instead of everybody else?
The point man raised his weapon, and the resistance faltered.
I curled my hands into fists as I watched them drag Isabella away, her struggles growing weaker as they moved out of the camera’s range.
“Follow them,” I ordered, my voice barely recognizable.
Anton switched feeds, tracking their movement through the compound toward Grey’s private villa. The timestamp showed they’d taken her almost half an hour ago.
“Show me Grey’s villa.”
Anton hesitated.
The technician behind us stepped forward. “Sir, those feeds are restricted—”
“Override it,” I growled. “Now.”
He swallowed visibly before entering a series of commands. The screen remained blank for several seconds before flickering to life, showing the exterior of Grey’s Mediterranean-style villa. No movement visible.
“Interior feeds?”
“There are none, sir. Mr. Grey had all the cameras removed last month.”
Of course he did. My vision literally reddened at the edges as rage surged through me. Grey had deliberately created a blind spot in our security system—a place where he could operate without oversight. And now, Isabella was there.
Heavy footsteps approached from behind. I turned to see Vince entering with Cristo close behind.
“Alex, Matt, and Dom are checking on the other women,” Vince announced, his voice clipped. “Nina’s gone with them.” His eyes locked on the security feed. “Where is my sister?”
I pointed to Grey’s villa on the screen. “In there. And we don’t have eyes inside.”
“Then we go there,” Vince said, already turning toward the door.
For once, we were in perfect agreement. I fell into step beside him, with Cristo and Anton following close behind. I instinctively checked my weapon as we moved through the compound, my mind calculating the quickest route to Grey’s villa.
We were halfway there when I spotted them—two men of Grey’s security detail, supporting a stumbling figure between them.
Isabella. Her head lolled against one guard’s shoulder, her movements uncoordinated as they half carried her along the path.
I broke into a run, reaching them in seconds. “Stop,” I commanded, my voice deadly quiet.
The guards halted, looking uncertain.
Isabella’s head lifted at the sound of my voice, her eyes struggling to focus on my face. When she finally recognized me, a flicker of something—relief? trust?—crossed her features.
“Do not faint,” she mumbled, then giggled deliriously, the sound so at odds with her usual sharp wit that it sent ice through my veins.
I stepped closer, examining her carefully.
Her pupils were dilated unnaturally, her skin flushed.
A thin trickle of blood had dried at the corner of her mouth as if she’d bitten her lip.
Her pulse was racing, but what made my blood freeze were the marks on her neck—the telltale puncture wounds of injection sites, surrounded by fresh bruising.
I cupped her cheek, kept her head from flopping to the side. “What happened?” I demanded though I already knew the answer.
The taller guard cleared his throat. “She had a bad reaction to something she must’ve eaten. Mr. Grey instructed us to return her to her room to rest.”
“A bad reaction,” I repeated, my voice flat with disbelief, “to something she ate?”
The guard nodded, not meeting my eyes. “Yes, sir.”
I stepped closer, invading his personal space. “And I suppose the needle marks on her neck are from what? A mosquito?”
The guard’s eyes widened slightly. Behind me, I heard Vince’s sharp intake of breath.
“Those are… I don’t know about any—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence,” I cut him off. “I know exactly what Grey did. Truth serum, combined with something else.” I studied Isabella’s glazed expression and her lack of muscle tone. “A muscle relaxant?”
The guards exchanged nervous glances, then shrugged. So they didn’t know or pretended not to know.
But I knew the usual MO.
I just hoped Grey hadn’t used her as a test subject for one of the Paraskia’s more experimental compounds—drugs that weren’t approved for use, which could have dangerous side effects. Drugs that could kill if administered incorrectly.
Vince stepped forward, his face a mask of barely contained fury. “Give her to me,” he ordered, reaching for his sister. “Now.”
Something primitive and possessive surged through me. Before I could analyze my reaction, I blocked his access to Isabella.
“She’s coming with me,” I stated, my voice deadly calm as I reached for her.
The guards hesitated, clearly caught between escalating danger. “Sir, Mr. Grey gave explicit orders—”
“Grey lost the right to give orders concerning her,” I interrupted, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Tell him if he has a problem with that, he can come see me personally.”