Chapter 21Ivan
CHAPTER 21
IVAN
I jolt awake, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. Sharp pain radiates from my ribs, and for a moment, I struggle to remember where I am. The crumpled metal of my Aston Martin comes into focus, and reality crashes back.
Alexei. The ambush. Jenny.
My phone pings, and I fumble for it, ignoring the protest of my battered body. The screen lights up with a message from Alexei, and my blood runs cold.
It’s a photo. Jenny, her eyes wide with fear but chin lifted defiantly, sits as far as she can from Stephen on what looks like a bench seat of a vehicle while still being in the frame. My stomach drops when I see a ruby necklace around her neck instead of the locket she should be wearing that would allow me to track her. That bastard holds the phone, a smug grin on his face. The sight of her in danger, with that piece of shit, ignites a fury in me that momentarily overpowers the pain.
“Fuck.” I spit out blood and force myself to move. Every breath is agony, but I push through it. I’ve endured worse. I’ve survived worse, and I’ll be damned if I let Alexei or Stephen hurt what’s mine.
I wrench open the door, stumbling out onto the pavement. The wreckage of my car is impressive—Alexei’s man did a thorough job, but he made one crucial mistake.
He left me alive.
Footsteps approach rapidly, and I tense, ready for another fight, but it’s Marcus who rounds the corner, flanked by several of our men. The relief on his face is quickly replaced by concern when he takes in my battered state. “Ivan,” he says, moving to support me. “We tracked your car when you didn’t show at the penthouse. What happened?”
I wave off his assistance, straightening despite the stabbing pain in my side. “Alexei sent his regards in the form of a white van. He has Jenny, and he’s working with that fucker, Stephen.”
Marcus’s expression darkens. “How do you want to handle this?”
“Mobilize everyone.” My voice is hard as steel. “I want every informant, every corrupt cop, and every rival syndicate we have leverage over working on this. Find them. Now.”
He starts to step away, and I say, “Wait. Check the tracker in her necklace.”
He pulls out his phone and calls up the program but frowns. “It’s unmoving at the penthouse.”
I curse, confirming she didn’t slip the locket in her bag or something to take with her. I make a mental note to chip every piece of jewelry she might ever wear in future, once she’s home safe. “She’s not wearing it, but we’ll return to the penthouse command room to plan anyway. We have to find her.”
Marcus nods sharply, already pulling out his phone. “On it. What about you? You need medical attention.”
I glare at him. “What I need is to get Jenny back. The rest can wait.”
He looks like he wants to argue but knows better. Instead, he turns to bark orders at the men surrounding us. I tune out the chatter, focusing on the photo on my phone. Her fear and defiance makes my chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with my injuries.
“I’m coming for you, solnishko ,” I murmur. “Hold on.” I pocket the phone and survey the scene. My men are already at work, combing the wreckage for any clues Alexei’s thug might have left behind. It’s a long shot, but I’ve built my empire on less.
“Ivan,” calls Marcus, jogging back over, “I’ve got our tech team tracing the signal from the text Alexei. If we’re lucky, we might be able to pinpoint their location.”
I nod, but I’m not optimistic. He surely used a burner phone. “Good. What about our street contacts?”
“Reaching out now. If Alexei or Stephen show their faces anywhere in this city, we’ll know.”
“Not good enough. I want eyes on every safehouse, every bolt-hole, and every fucking inch of territory Alexei might consider his. He’s arrogant, so he’ll want to keep Jenny close.”
He hesitates. “That’s a lot of ground to cover, especially if we’re trying to stay under the radar.”
I grab him by the collar, ignoring the flare of pain the movement causes. “I don’t give a fuck about staying under the radar. Use everyone. Call in every favor. I want Jenny found, and I want Alexei’s head on a fucking platter. Understood?”
He meets my gaze steadily. “Understood.”
I release him, taking a steadying breath. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and the full extent of my injuries is making itself known, but I can’t afford to show weakness. Not now.
“What about Stephen?” he asks, his tone carefully neutral.
A cold rage washes over me at the mention of that name. “Oh, I have plans for him,” I say coldly, “But he’s a secondary concern. Focus on Alexei.”
Marcus nods, then pauses. “Ivan, this has to tie into our leak. The timing of this attack, the fact that they knew your route...”
I close my eyelids briefly, nodding. “I know,” I say quietly. “We can’t afford to start doubting each other now. We find Jenny first, and then we root out the traitor.”
He doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t argue. “What’s our next move?”
I straighten, ignoring the protest of my battered body. “We go back to the penthouse. I need to change, and we have all the resources we’ll need in the command center.”
As we make our way to a waiting SUV, I can’t shake the image of Jenny’s face from my mind. The fear in her eyes, yes, but also the defiance. The strength. My beautiful, fierce solnishko .
“I’m coming for you,” I whisper again, as if she can somehow hear me. “And God help anyone who tries to stop me.”
The ride home is painful, but I endure. When we reach the lobby, I stride toward the elevator, my ribs protesting with every step. Suddenly, I jerk to a stop. Ed, the doorman, cowers behind his desk, eyes wide with fear. On the floor, Andre and Daniil lie motionless. My jaw clenches at the sight of my loyal men brought low.
“What happened?” I demand, my voice sharp as a blade.
The doorman stammers before managing to speak. “Mr. Markov, sir... It was terrible. Men in tactical gear, led by someone Ms. Graham called Stephen. They shot your guards and took Ms. Graham.”
Cold fury washes over me. “Call our doctor,” I order Marcus. “Now.”
As Marcus makes the call, I kneel beside Andre and Daniil while ignoring the way it pulls my ribs, checking their pulses. Relief floods through me when I find both still alive, though unconscious. Their bulletproof vests saved their lives. Daniil’s arm is bleeding though.
“They’re breathing,” I inform Marcus. “Make sure they receive the best care possible.” I nod to a group of my other men. “Carry them upstairs and get them comfortable in the staff apartment.” I can’t risk involving the authorities since they’re both not critically injured, thanks to the body armor.
I look at Ed. “Good job on maintaining discretion.”
His hands are shaking. “I was calling you before the police, sir.” He holds out his phone, and I can see he’s called up my name on his contact list. “Just like you said to if something like this ever happened. I didn’t delay. I swear.”
I nod, convinced by his fear. I don’t waste more time on him as I stand, ignoring the stabbing pain in my side. There’s no time for weakness. Jenny needs me.
“Let’s move,” I say, heading for the elevator. “We have work to do.” We make room for the men hefting Andre and Daniil, and it’s a tight fit when they get off on the floor below mine, where the staff are quartered.
In the penthouse, I change quickly, wincing while I pull on a fresh shirt. Marcus eyes me with concern when I enter the command center, struggling to straighten the shirt enough to button it with my ribs pulling painfully.
“You need medical attention,” he says.
I fix him with a hard glare. “What I need is to find Jenny. Call the doctor if you must after he sees to Daniil and Andre, but I’m not stopping.”
He nods, knowing better than to argue. “What’s our next move?”
“Pull up satellite images of every possible hideout. Cross-reference them with locations we’ve previously linked to Alexei’s operations. I want eyes on every inch of this city.”
My men spring into action, and the room buzzes with focused energy. Screens light up, displaying maps and data streams. I move from station to station, absorbing information and issuing orders.
“Check traffic cam footage,” I tell one operative. “Track any vehicles leaving the area after the abduction.”
To another, I say, “Monitor all known associates of Alexei and Stephen. If they so much as sneeze, I want to know about it.”
The bratva doctor arrives, but I wave him off. “Later, Dr. Olsen. Focus on Andre and Daniil.”
Dr. Olsen smiles. “I knew you’d say that, so I’ve already seen them. They’ll be bruised and sore for a few days, and Daniil took a bullet to the arm, which bled a lot, but they’re going to be all right.”
“ Spasibo .” I’m relieved but already turning my attention back to the search. Hours pass in a blur of activity. My ribs throb with every breath, but I push aside the pain. Nothing matters except finding Jenny.
“Sir,” calls out a young operative. “We’ve identified three potential locations matching your criteria.”
I’m at his side in an instant, studying the map on his screen. “Show me.”
He points to each location, explaining their significance. A busy warehouse owned by a shell company he’s tracked back to Alexei. There’s a high-rise apartment building, and a secluded estate on the outskirts of the city, both also owned by the same shell corporation.
“Good work,” I say. “Prepare teams for simultaneous raids on all three locations. I want them ready to move in an hour.”
As my men continue their preparations, I step away for a moment, staring out the window at the city below. Somewhere out there, Jenny is waiting. Scared, alone, and in the hands of my enemies.
The doctor approaches cautiously. “Mr. Markov, please. At least let me examine you quickly. It’s been hours.”
I turn, ready to refuse again, but the determination in Dr. Olsen’s expression gives me pause. I nod curtly, allowing him to lead me to a nearby room. As he checks my injuries, I continue issuing orders via my phone. Nothing will slow me down. Not pain, not fatigue, and not the gnawing fear in my gut.
“Two cracked ribs,” says the doctor. “You need rest and?—”
“Not an option,” I cut him off, standing. “Do what you can to keep me on my feet.”
He sighs but complies, wrapping my ribs tightly and administering a painkiller. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do. “Take this wrap off as soon as you’re able to rest,” he says firmly. “I don’t want you getting pneumonia. This is just to keep them from breaking during activity—and try not to crack any more tonight.”
I nod before returning to the main room, where Marcus is coordinating the raid teams. “Status report?”
“Teams are almost ready,” he says. “We’ll be able to hit all three locations simultaneously in thirty minutes.”
I nod, satisfaction mingling with impatience. “Good. I’ll lead the team hitting the warehouse. You take the apartment building, and we’ll have Niko take the secluded estate.”
Marcus hesitates. “Ivan, are you sure you should be in the field? Your injuries?—”
“Are irrelevant. I’m going. End of discussion.”
He knows better than to argue further. We make final preparations, and I check my weapons, the familiar weight of my gun offering cold comfort.
Hold on, Jenny.