Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Alexander
The black convoy tore through Brooklyn's streets, tires shrieking against asphalt. I sat in the back seat, hands clenched into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms.
After thirty-six hours of searching, we'd finally located Anna—at her friend Yekaterina Ivanova's apartment.
The convoy screeched to a halt outside the building.
Before we'd even fully stopped, I kicked the door open.
Ivan and his elite team followed close behind, heavy footsteps echoing through the quiet neighborhood with unmistakable menace.
Scattered pedestrians fled like startled birds, fear thick in the air.
I ignored everything else, charging straight into the building and taking the stairs three at a time to the third floor. My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat hammering out Anna's name.
"305," Ivan's voice came from behind me, low and tense.
I stood before the door, drawing a deep breath, fighting to contain the rage and panic clawing at my chest. Then I hammered on the door, the sound reverberating down the empty hallway.
Seconds later, the door cracked open. A blonde woman peered out cautiously—Yekaterina. The moment she saw me, her face went white as paper, terror flashing in her eyes as she instinctively tried to slam the door shut.
But my hand was already braced against it.
"Mr. Volkov..." Her voice trembled uncontrollably.
"Where's Anna?" Direct and cold as winter, though I was already holding back everything I had.
"She... she..." Tears welled in Yekaterina's eyes. "She went to get medicine and never came back!"
The words hit like a sledgehammer to my skull. My vision went dark for a moment, ears ringing. "When?" I forced the question out, my voice stretched taut as a bowstring.
"About forty minutes ago," she sobbed. "Sofia had a fever... Anna went to the pharmacy for medicine... she said she'd be right back... but her phone goes straight to voicemail!"
Sofia was sick. Anna had risked going out for our daughter. The realization struck like a poisoned blade, hitting my deepest fears and guilt dead center.
"Where's Sofia?" My voice cracked higher, betraying a tremor I couldn't suppress. "How is she now?"
"Inside... sleeping," Yekaterina wiped her tears, struggling to compose herself. "The fever's come down a little. I used cold compresses. But she's restless, keeps calling for her mama..."
"Let me see her." I pushed past without waiting for permission.
The apartment was warm and tidy, but I moved through it like a hurricane, seeing nothing but my destination. I spotted her immediately—that tiny figure curled on the couch.
Sofia lay wrapped in blankets, her little face flushed with fever, brow furrowed, sleeping fitfully. Her small hands clutched the covers, searching for comfort—and her beloved rabbit, the one she never went anywhere without, wasn't even with her. That detail pierced my heart like a needle.
I knelt beside her, reaching out to touch her forehead. Burning heat met my fingertips, setting fire to my chest. My hand trembled.
She twisted restlessly in her sleep, little lips moving. "Mama... coming back... don't go..."
Then her small hand reached blindly into the air. I caught it immediately, that soft, burning touch nearly searing my skin.
She cracked her eyes open barely a sliver, murmuring hazily. "Alex..."
Then she slipped back into unconsciousness, breathing more steadily, but my world had just exploded.
That single word—mixing her dependence on her mother with her trust in me—cut through me like the sharpest blade. Guilt, rage, and terror surged through my veins like molten lava.
I leaned down, pressing a solemn kiss to her burning forehead, swearing in a voice only we could hear. "Daddy's bringing Mama home. I promise."
I stayed there a few more seconds, studying her face. Her cheeks burned with unhealthy color, tear tracks still visible on her lashes. This image cemented my resolve—whatever the cost, I was bringing Anna home safe.
I turned to Yekaterina, who stood frozen in the doorway, my voice like ice. "Tell me exactly where the pharmacy is. And every detail about when Anna left."
Yekaterina nodded quickly, fighting for control. "Fifth Avenue and Brooklyn Street intersection. The 24-hour place with the green sign. Anna was wearing my gray hoodie, baseball cap, and black-framed glasses as a disguise. She said she'd take the main road, no shortcuts."
She paused, voice shaking again. "But it's been almost an hour. Even walking, the round trip should only take twenty minutes... I'm terrified something's happened."
"Did she take her phone?"
"Yes, but it goes straight to voicemail." Fresh tears began flowing. "Mr. Volkov, please—you have to find Anna. She's been my best friend since high school. If something happens to her... and Sofia needs her mother."
She looked at me with desperate, pleading eyes. "I know you two had problems. I know why Anna left. But none of that matters now. She needs you, and Sofia needs her mama. Please... bring her home safe."
I studied this woman crying her heart out, knowing she genuinely cared for Anna. When Anna needed help most, she'd taken them in.
"I will." My voice was steel. "I'll bring her back in one piece."
I turned to Ivan. "Leave Viktor and Nikolai. Twenty-four-hour shifts. Any unfamiliar faces approach—no warnings. Eliminate on sight."
"Understood."
I looked back at Yekaterina. "My men will protect Sofia. Until I bring Anna back, you don't go anywhere. Don't answer the door for anyone—my people will handle everything."
"I... I understand." She nodded.
I took one last look at Sofia sleeping on the couch, then turned and strode out. Every second of delay could mean Anna faced greater danger.
Downstairs, Ivan was already coordinating. "Pakhan, I've sent people to the pharmacy. We're pulling security footage now."
"Good. Also—"
My encrypted phone cut me off mid-sentence. This number was known only to family and my core inner circle. Strangers never called this line.
Dread crawled up my spine. I answered without speaking, and a processed, gravelly voice came through. "Mr. Volkov. It's finally time we met."
A muffled whimper came through in the background—Anna's voice!
My grip tightened on the phone until my knuckles went white. "Who is this?"
"That's not important." The voice carried sick pleasure. "What matters is your beautiful wife is in my hands. She's so frightened, keeps calling your name. How touching—a woman in her darkest hour still thinks of the man who abandoned her."
"If you touch one hair on her head—"
"Threats? How boring." He cut me off. "Listen, Volkov. The rules are simple. Two hours. Hand over all your East Coast territory files, weapons warehouse locations, and evidence of your dirty deals."
"Impossible."
"Then prepare for a body bag. Oh, and your adorable daughter—Sofia, right? Five years old? Such a shame to lose her mother so young. Don't worry though, we'll be collecting her soon too."
Clearer struggling sounds came through, then Anna's pained cry as she was brutally restrained.
"Alexander!" I heard Anna's voice, full of terror and desperation. "Don't... don't give them anything! Protect Sofia!"
Then a dull thud, like a blow striking flesh.
In that instant, my darkest childhood memories crashed over me like a tsunami, shattering my last defenses. The smell of blood, screaming, gunshots, and that bone-deep helplessness—every buried fear exploded to the surface.
My legs gave out, and I swayed against the car door. Breathing became impossible, like invisible hands crushing my throat.
That seven-year-old boy was back—hiding under the table, watching his parents die in pools of blood, hearing only his own thundering heartbeat, powerless to do anything.
"Pakhan!" Ivan grabbed my shoulders frantically.
I saw him holding me, lips moving, but heard nothing. Only my parents' dying cries, only those killers' cold laughter filled my ears.
My vision blurred, sounds grew distant. Darkness crept in from the edges, ready to swallow me whole. I felt myself falling into that bloody abyss.
Just as the darkness was about to consume me completely, an image flashed through my mind—
Sofia curled on the couch, face flushed with fever, clutching her blanket, murmuring "Mama's coming back" in her sleep.
"Alex will protect me and Mama, right?"
That's what she'd asked me once.
"Of course. I'll never let anyone hurt you."
That was my promise. My sacred promise to my daughter.
I couldn't let her endure what I had. I couldn't let her lose her mother at five, couldn't let her grow up drowning in fear.
I couldn't let history repeat itself.
Never.
That thought struck like lightning, tearing through the darkness surrounding me.
I sucked in air, oxygen burning my lungs. Then another breath. My nails dug deep into my palms, the sharp pain dragging my consciousness back from that bloody pit.
I wasn't that seven-year-old boy anymore. I wasn't helpless or weak. I was Alexander Volkov, one of the most powerful men on the East Coast. I had resources, strength, the ability to protect the people I loved.
Slowly, my breathing steadied. My heart still raced, but it wasn't that out-of-control chaos anymore. The darkness retreated as reason reclaimed control.
I opened my eyes to Ivan's worried face. His hands still gripped my shoulders, eyes full of alertness and concern.
"I'm fine." My voice was rough but steady again.
The panic in my eyes had been replaced by ice-cold killing intent. The episode had made me lose control temporarily, but now that fear had transformed into pure rage and determination.
Those people had made the most fatal mistake in the world—they'd touched my family.
I picked up the dropped phone, telling Ivan, "Track this number immediately. Deploy all technical personnel. I want the exact location of that signal source." My voice was terrifyingly calm.
"Yes!" Ivan immediately pulled out his phone to coordinate.
I turned toward the apartment building where Sofia still slept, unaware her mother was in danger.
"Double the security for Sofia," I ordered. "I want eyes on every entrance. Tell Viktor and Nikolai—any suspicious movement, shoot to kill."
"Understood."
Minutes later, the tech team called.
"Pakhan, we've tracked the signal source." The voice was tense. "An abandoned slaughterhouse on the edge of Brooklyn, about two kilometers from that pharmacy. The place has been empty for seven or eight years. Very isolated area."
A slaughterhouse. A place steeped in blood and death. They hadn't chosen it randomly.
"Good. Send me detailed maps and building schematics immediately. Also, pull all surveillance footage around the slaughterhouse. I want to know how many people are there, when they arrived, how many vehicles."
"Understood."
I dialed another number. "Initiate red alert protocol. Assemble all elite squads. I'll send you the target location. Ten minutes to full deployment—bring all heavy weapons."
"Understood, Pakhan."
After hanging up, I told Ivan, "Contact all core family members and allies. After tonight, the East Coast power structure gets reshuffled. Tell them—anyone who stands against me now, I'll erase their family from the map permanently."
"Yes!"
Ten minutes later, all the intel was on my phone screen. An old slaughterhouse built in the fifties, abandoned for over seven years. Typical industrial layout—main hall, cold storage, cutting rooms, and underground drainage systems.
Surveillance showed three black SUVs entering the rear yard about an hour and ten minutes ago. All fake plates. Initial estimate: fifteen to twenty armed personnel.
"Ready?" I asked Ivan.
"Standing by. Three elite squads, eight men each, fully equipped."
"Good." I opened the car door, checking my pistol's magazine—full. "Tonight, I'm teaching the entire East Coast what happens when you touch my family."
I slid into the car, watching the sky darken outside. Two hours—that's what they'd given me.
But I didn't need two hours.
I'd end this in one.
I turned to address the convoy. "Move out."
Engines roared to life, and we headed toward that abandoned slaughterhouse.
Tonight, many people would pay for their mistake.
And I would prove to everyone, in blood and fire, that Volkov women and children were the most forbidden territory in this world.