Chapter 29 Ilya
ILYA
The man is crying now, blood and tears mixing on his face, dripping onto the concrete floor of the basement. He was our source, and now he’s a dead man who happens to still be breathing.
It’s his fault Sergei has Mara. And that, I won’t forgive, even if he tries to redeem himself by giving me the information I need.
Right now, he’s an outlet for my violence, and fuck, I need it.
I hit him again, my knuckles splitting open against his teeth. The pain grounds me, keeps me from coming apart completely. If I allow myself to feel the full weight of what's happened, I'll lose what's left of my sanity.
The feeling rattles through my body, sending a throb of satisfaction through me. I want this man dead. I want Mara here. I want to sink myself into her with blood still on my knuckles so I can feel the heat of her around me and know that she’s alive, that she’s still mine.
"Please," the man gasps, spitting blood. "Please, I don't know anything—"
"You're lying." My voice is calm, almost conversational. Kazimir stands in the corner, watching, ready to help if I need it. But we both know I won't stop until I have what I need. "You know where Sergei took her. You know where he's holding her."
"I swear, I don't—"
I grab the pliers from the table beside me. The man’s eyes go wide, and he starts struggling against the restraints, but Dmitri's replacement—a man named Alexei—holds him steady.
"You have ten fingers," I say, examining the pliers.
"We'll start with those. Then toes. Then I'll get creative.
" I meet his eyes, and I let him see everything in my gaze: the rage and desperation, the absolute certainty that I will do whatever it takes.
"How many do you think you'll have left before you tell me what I want to know? "
“Please—”
I grab the man’s left hand, forcing his fingers straight, and position the pliers around his pinky finger.
"Wait!" he screams. "Wait, wait, please—"
"Where is she?"
"The warehouse! The old shipping warehouse, in Chelsea!" The words tumble out in a rush, desperate and broken. "Sergei's using it as a staging area. He has them there, both of them, he's going to—"
"Going to what?" I tighten the pliers, just enough to make him feel it.
"Make you choose! He's going to make you choose which one lives, broadcast it to everyone, show them that you're weak—" The man is sobbing now, all pretense of loyalty gone. "Please, that's all I know, I swear on my mother's grave—"
Confusion burns through my anger. “Choose between who?” I snarl, and he stares up at me with frightened eyes.
“Your…your fiancee. And the other one.”
Svetlana, I realize, and curse aloud in a string of Russian. Sergei must not have known the engagement was broken. He has them both, and even though it complicates nothing in my mind—I’d do anything and sacrifice anyone to save Mara—it makes this messier.
I release his finger and step back, my mind already racing through logistics. I know the location—it's isolated and easy to defend. Sergei chose well.
But not well enough.
"Kazimir," I say, not taking my eyes off the weeping man in front of me. "Get everyone. Full gear, heavy weapons. I want our best men, no one we can't trust absolutely."
"Already done. They're waiting upstairs."
Of course they are. Kazimir knows me well enough to anticipate what I need before I ask for it.
I study the crying man’s broken face. He's told me what I need to know, but the rage inside me hasn't diminished. If anything, it's grown, fed by the image of Mara in that warehouse, scared and hurt and waiting for me to save her.
Waiting for me to fail her, like I failed Katya.
"What do you want me to do with him?" Alexei asks.
I don’t bother answering. I just pull my hunting knife from my holster and lean forward, dragging it across his throat as he begs me to stop, until his screams turn into the gurgling of death.
I’ll kill anyone who stands between me and her. Anyone who betrays me. Anyone who fails me.
I’ll get her back no matter the cost.
Even if I have to let her go again, afterwards.
—
The drive to the warehouse takes forty-five minutes, but it feels like hours. I'm in the lead vehicle with Kazimir, four more SUVs following behind us, each filled with armed men who've proven their loyalty a hundred times over.
We go over the plan one more time, even though everyone knows their role.
We’ll take entry points—the main entrance, loading dock, and a side door that will likely be less heavily guarded.
Kazimir will take the loading dock team, Alexei the side entrance.
I'm going through the front with four men, drawing attention while the others flank.
"Sergei will be expecting us," Kazimir says, checking his weapon. "He'll have men positioned and waiting."
"I know."
“He’ll likely be waiting with the women, as well. He’ll make it difficult to get to them without them being hurt.”
"I know." My jaw clenches. "That's why we'll clear out his men and get to him wherever he’s holed up in there with him. We get in close, we overwhelm them with numbers and speed. No hesitation, no mercy."
"And if he's already hurt them?"
The question makes my vision blur red for a moment. I force myself to breathe, to think tactically instead of emotionally. "It doesn’t matter. He’s going to die one way or another. What condition Mara is in determines how slowly.”
Kazimir nods, satisfied with that answer.
The abandoned section of the neighborhood is dark and deserted when we arrive, exactly as I expected.
We park a few blocks away and approach on foot, moving as silently as possible.
The warehouse looms ahead, a massive structure of corrugated metal and broken windows, surrounded by a chain-link fence that's more rust than steel.
I can see movement around it. Sergei's not even trying to hide. He wants me to come. He's counting on it.
Fine. This ends the same, either way. I’m going to kill him, and take everything that’s his, after I get back what’s mine.
We split up at the fence, each team moving to their designated entry point. I watch Kazimir disappear around the east side, Alexei heading west, and then I focus on the main entrance ahead.
Four men are guarding it. Two of my men sneak in and behind them, slitting the throats of the ones on the side as we take out the two in front with silenced shots.
When we approach the steel door, it’s locked and reinforced, as I guessed it would be.
But we came prepared. One of my men, a demolitions expert, sets charges while the rest of us take positions on either side.
"Thirty seconds," he murmurs into his comm.
I check my weapon one last time. It’s fully loaded, two extra magazines, my other gun in reserve with extra ammo for it as well. My hunting knife strapped to my thigh.
"Twenty seconds."
I think about Mara. About the way she looked at me before I left, that disappointment in her eyes. How I pushed her away when she asked me to trust her, to let her in.
I might never get the chance to tell her I'm sorry. That I’m willing to try, if it means I can have her.
That she’s the only woman I’ve ever loved.
"Ten seconds. All ready?"
"East is ready," Kazimir's voice crackles through the comm.
"West is ready," Alexei confirms.
"On my mark," I say. "Three... two... one..."
The explosion is deafening, the steel door blowing inward in a shower of sparks and twisted metal. We're moving before the smoke clears, weapons up, as we charge in and sweep the space.
Sergei has men waiting, but as we tear through them, I have a feeling they were always meant to be meat—just cannon fodder to make us feel like we’re accomplishing something before we get to the main event that he has planned for us.
The interior of the warehouse is largely empty once we get through the first line of men approaching us, and as we search the structure, we eventually come to a large room in the center.
I can see figures ahead—Sergei's men, at least a dozen of them, positioned around a cleared area.
In that area, each tied to a chair, are Mara and Svetlana.
My heart stops.
Mara's alive. She's hurt—I can see blood on her wrists, bruises on her face and a furious expression wreathing it—but she's alive and conscious. As we storm in, her eyes snap to me and widen. She’s enraged, I can tell, and I wonder what happened before we got here.
Sergei stands behind them, a gun in his hand, smiling like he's already won.
"Ilya Sorokov!" he calls out, his voice echoing in the vast space. "A little later than I expected, actually. I was beginning to think you didn't care."
I move forward slowly, my weapon trained on him, my men fanning out behind me.
My focus is entirely on the scene in front of me.
Mara’s gaze is still fixed on me, her hands clenching and unclenching into fists.
Svetlana looks terrified but defiant, blood leaking from a cut on her lower lip, her complexion ashen.
And Sergei behind them, clearly thinking he’s orchestrated the perfect trap.
"Let them go," I snarl, my voice carrying across the space. "This is between you and me."
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong." Sergei presses his gun against Mara's head, and I feel something crack inside my chest. "This is about so much more than territory or power.
This is about showing everyone that the great Ilya Sorokov is just a man.
A man with weaknesses. A man who can be broken. "
My jaw clenches. "You've made your point. Now let them go."
"Not yet." Sergei's smile widens. "First, you're going to make a choice. You can save one of them—just one. Your fiancée, the woman you promised you’d marry? Or your current obsession, the one who made you forget your responsibilities?"