15. Tick Tock
15
Tick Tock
E very minute counts. For all I know, my baby girl could already be dead. The thought claws at my chest, threatening to suffocate me. This is all my fucking fault. Why the hell couldn’t I have just listened to Marklovs plan? I knew better—I knew better—but I still fucked it up anyway.
I pace the small, dimly lit room, my cane forgotten in the corner, the ache in my leg a dull whisper compared to the storm inside me. The guilt is relentless, a vicious tide that drags me under every time I try to surface. Esmé is out there because of me—because I thought I could outmaneuver a man like Marklov.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands shaking as I drag them through my hair. I can still hear his voice in my head, smooth and calculated, promising chaos if I didn’t comply. He didn’t even have to shout to make his threats feel real.
But I thought I was smarter. Thought I could find a way around his demands without paying the price. And now she’s paying it for me.
A sharp knock at the door pulls me out of my spiral.
“What?” I bark, my voice harsher than I intended.
The door creaks open, and Raph steps in, his expression grim. “We’ve got something,” he says, his voice clipped. “One of my guys caught wind of movement on the east side. A black van with Marklovs mark was spotted heading toward the docks late last night.”
My stomach twists. “The docks?” I snap. “That’s where he moves his shipments. Are you telling me he’s planning to traffic her?”
Raph hesitates, and the silence gives enough of an answer.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, my hands balling into fists. “How could you let it get this far, Raph? Four days, and this is all you’ve got?”
“Don’t act like I haven’t been working my ass off,” Raph growls, stepping closer. “I didn’t sit on my hands while you were unconscious, G. You think I don’t feel this, too? You think I don’t—”
“Enough,” Sasha’s voice cuts through the tension as she steps into the room, her face blotchy from tears but her eyes sharp. “We don’t have time for this. If the van’s headed to the docks, we need to move. Now.”
Raph glares at me but nods. “She’s right. If we’re going to intercept, we need to go fast and quiet. You up for that, G?”
I don’t bother answering. Instead, I grab my coat and my gun, the cold steel a bitter comfort in my hand. “Let’s go,” I say, my voice hard.
Every second that passes feels like another nail in Esmé’s coffin, and I’ll be damned if I let Marklov drive the last one in. If he hurts her, I’ll make his whole bloodline pay for every sin he has ever made.
Now Marklov has both of my girls—Esmé and Tormenta. The thought sears through me like a hot blade. Esmé wasn’t supposed to be part of this. She was supposed to be untouchable, hidden away so far that even Marklov couldn’t find her. Yet here we are.
Esmé, my baby girl. Tormenta, my storm. Both gone, stolen by the devil himself.
I storm into the makeshift operations room Raph had pieced together over the last 48 hours. The place reeks of stale coffee and sweat, the air electric with tension. A line of monitors displays grainy camera footage, maps littered with red pins, and looping satellite images.
“Cam!” I bark, catching the attention of a lean, sharp-eyed man hunched over a laptop. His name suits him—he’s as elusive and calculating as they come, a security expert who knows how to make people disappear and reappear at will—a god with a lens.
“Got your detail running every camera feed within a fifty-mile radius of the docks,” Cam says without looking up. His fingers fly over the keyboard, pulling up a feed from what looks like a highway toll booth. “We’re cross-referencing every vehicle that matches Marklovs known fleet and checking them against traffic logs.”
“And?” I press, my patience hanging by a thread.
He glances up, his expression unreadable. “Two potential hits. One van was seen entering the industrial district late last night, and another heading north toward the outskirts of the city an hour later. Both are registered to shell companies we know Marklov uses.”
I clench my jaw, the tension in my chest ratcheting tighter. “Where the hell do we start?”
“Industrial district’s closer,” Raph says, stepping in behind me. “If it’s the wrong lead, we can still pivot to the northern route.”
“If it’s the wrong lead?” I snap, spinning to face him.
“We don’t have time to play the odds, Raph. Esmé and Tormenta don’t have time.”
“We don’t have a choice!” he fires back. “Unless you’ve got some magic trick to figure out which one’s the real target, this is the best we’ve got.”
“Enough,” Cam says sharply, his voice cutting through the tension. He turns his monitor toward me, the screen split between the two leads. “The industrial district route has less security. Fewer cameras, fewer checkpoints. If I were Marklov, that’s where I’d move someone I didn’t want to be tracked.”
I nod, the logic clicking into place. “Then we go there first.”
“G…” Sasha’s voice is soft but firm from the corner of the room. She steps forward, her face pale but determined. “You can’t rush into this. You need to think. Marklov is not stupid—he’s expecting you to come after them. This could be a trap.”
“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap,” I growl, my fists clenching. “I’m not sitting here while he’s got both of them.”
Sasha grabs my arm. Her grip is surprisingly firm. “And if you get yourself killed? Then what? You think Esmé or Tormenta needs that?”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but I shove the pain aside. “If I don’t go, they’re as good as dead anyway,” I say, shaking her off.
Raph clears his throat. “I’ve got a team ready to mobilize,” he says. “Armed and prepped. You lead, G. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Stupid is the only way to deal with Marklov,” I mutter, grabbing my gun and strapping a second holster to my side.
Raph steps up, his face grim but resolute. “Then let’s finish this. One way or another. I am with you, brother.”
I look around the room at the faces of the people who have stood by me through every mistake and every misstep.
“We move now,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head.
With every passing second, Marklovs grip tightens around the two people I can’t live without. The weight of each moment crushes me, a relentless reminder of the stakes. As the clock ticks, urgency morphs into a gnawing fear that becomes almost unbearable.
The thought of Tormenta in his hands is torment enough, but Esmé … Esmé is my heart and soul. I swore to her that nothing would ever harm her, and now he’s taken the most precious part of me. Desperation claws at my insides, driving me to break free from his grasp and save the one I cherish above all and the one who ignites a fire deep within me.