Chapter Six
Viktor
The warehouse Alexei uses for private sit-downs feels colder than usual.
Maybe it’s the reinforced steel walls.
Maybe it’s the storm rolling in.
Or maybe it’s the fact that Natalya isn’t in my arms where she belongs.
I sit at the long metal table with Alexei at the head and Dmitri to my right, the low buzz of industrial lights overhead humming like a warning. Papers are spread across the table; photos, reports, surveillance stills…all pointing to the same stupid, suicidal conclusion.
A street gang is trying to poke the bear.
Alexei taps one photo with the tip of his finger. “Golden Sinners.”
Dmitri snorts. “Idiots.”
I grind my molars, staring at the grainy image of the two men who smashed Natalya’s shop. The same ones who terrified her into tears. The same ones whose blood I’m going to spill.
“They’re new,” Alexei continues. “Bottom-feeders who think Boris Popov’s death left a power vacuum.”
“They think wrong,” Dmitri mutters.
Alexei nods. “They’ve been extorting smaller businesses. Pushing their luck. Trying to see who reacts, who doesn’t. They want attention. Reputation. A seat at a table they don’t deserve.”
“And they thought starting with a florist shop was a good tactic?” Dmitri scoffs.
My jaw clenches so tight my teeth ache. “They chose the wrong shop.”
Alexei leans back in his chair. “I reached out. Their leader agreed to a meeting. We’ll get answers tonight.”
Good.
Because words will be the last courtesy I give them.
While the others talk logistics, I take out my phone. My thumb hovers over the screen for a moment before I dial.
Andrei picks up on the first ring.
“What happened?” he demands, voice sharp, already on edge.
I give him the short version. The break-in at the shop. The threats. The damage and the Golden Sinners’ involvement.
Andrei is silent at first. Too silent.
“Is she hurt?” He asks after a while.
“No.”
He lets out a long exhale. Not relief exactly; more like controlled fury. “Where is she now?”
“At home. Guarded.”
“Good.” A slight pause. “Viktor…Thank you. I’m in your debt.”
I don’t say anything to that.
He knows.
He’s always known.
“Viktor,” Mikhail’s voice echoes calmly through the line. “Listen…I’m ordering my jet fueled.”
“Mikhail—”
“We’ll be airborne in twenty minutes,” he cuts in smoothly. “Six hours, and we’re back.”
“You don’t need to rush.”
“Yes. We do.”
His voice leaves no room for argument.
“Keep her safe until we get home.”
“I will.”
He ends the call without another word.
I slip the phone into my pocket just as the warehouse door screeches open. I look up and see a familiar pompous face strolling into the room like he fucking owns it.
Nicky Burg is one of those people that’s easy to hate—with his arrogant face, cheap leather jacket and grease-slick hair. He has that stupid smile carved out of ego and stupidity. Two of his men flank him, probably to fuel his already massive ego.
The moment I see him, I know something is wrong…
He’s too confident.
Too casual.
Too sure of whatever he thinks he’s holding over us.
Alexei sits back in his chair, his expression unreadable. Dmitri simply twirls the switchblade he’s holding, the way he does right before someone ends up bleeding. I stay standing, arms crossed, gaze fixed on Nicky, already imagining how he’ll look with one fewer limb.
Nicky stops a few feet from the table.
“Well well,” he drawls. “Balshovs in the flesh. I gotta say, this meeting is a real honor.”
Alexei doesn’t blink. “You asked for it. Say what you came to say.”
Nicky’s grin widens. “I think you’ll want to hear this sitting down.”
I step forward. “Talk.”
He lifts his hands in a mock pacifying gesture. “Relax, big guy. I’m not here to start trouble.”
He says it with the smugness of a man who believes he’s already won.
My stomach goes cold.
Then Nicky speaks the sentence that confirms it:
“My boys are holding your girl,” he says lightly. “The florist.”
The world seems to tilt right at that moment. Dmitri stiffens beside me and Alexei’s jaw tightens. My heart stops completely, then slams back with a violence that shakes something loose inside me.
Nicky keeps talking, oblivious—or too stupid to realize he’s already a dead man.
“Cute little thing,” he says with a shrug. “Real sweet. You should’ve seen the way she cried when my men grabbed her. Breaks my heart.”
A roar builds in my ears. I taste blood from how hard I’m biting the inside of my cheek.
He doesn’t stop talking.
“And from what I’ve seen the last few days…” He looks right at me. “She’s important to you. Real important.”
My fingers twitch toward the gun at my hip.
Alexei leans forward, voice deceptively calm. “What do you want?”
“Simple,” Nicky says. “You hand over the Popov territory, and my guys let the girl walk away unharmed. Everybody wins.”
Silence.
But not the peaceful kind.
The lethal kind.
Alexei is the first to move. Not much…just a shift of weight, a tilt of his head. Small. But I know him well enough to read the signal.
He’s giving permission.
Nicky keeps running his mouth. “Look, you’ve spread yourselves thin. You can’t watch everything. We’re small, but we’re smart. Strategic. We saw an opportunity and—”
The next sound is my safety clicking off.
Nicky freezes.
His two men go for their guns.
But Dmitri and I are faster.
Two shots crack through the warehouse like thunder.
The two men beside Nicky drop instantly, dead before their bodies hit the ground.
Nicky staggers backward, eyes wide, scrambling too late for the weapon tucked at his waist. Alexei moves like a ghost, silent, deadly, unhurried—and slams him face first onto the table with a force that echoes across metal.
He wrenches Nicky’s arm up behind his back and presses a hunting knife to the man’s throat.
“You made a mistake,” Alexei murmurs, low and cold enough to freeze bone. “A fatal one.”
“S-she’s leverage!” Nicky wheezes. “I—”
“No,” Alexei cuts in. “She’s family.”
Nicky pales. Sweat beads across his forehead.
He should be afraid.
He should be terrified.
Because I’m the one he needs to fear most.
I step forward, vision edged in red, already imagining how long it will take him to die.
Dmitri’s hand clamps around my arm. “Viktor. No.”
“Let go,” I snarl.
“Listen to me.” His grip tightens. “You want to kill him? Fine. Later. But right now? We need information. And you need to get to Natalya before anything happens. That’s your priority.”
My muscles tremble with fury, but the logic hits through the fog. Every second here is a second she’s locked away, terrified, alone.
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw pops.
Alexei meets my eyes over Nicky’s bent form. “Go. I’ll deal with this trash.”
Nicky starts to protest. Alexei slams his face into the table again. Hard.
“Viktor,” Dmitri says quietly, “take men with you. Move now.”
I don’t waste another second. I shove away from the table and stride toward the exit, calling out orders.
“Five with me,” I bark. “Now.”
Boots thunder behind me as several men fall into step. My blood is roaring, my vision tunneling. My heart is a weapon of its own and deaths of men that cross it are inevitable.
They touched her.
They took her.
They dared to use her against us.
Against me.
A mistake they will not survive.
I push through the warehouse door into the night, fury tearing through my bones like wildfire. Halfway to the cars when my phone vibrates harshly against my thigh.
One glance at the caller ID and fury sharpens into ice.
It’s Marko. One of the men stationed at the café.
I answer instantly.
“Talk.”
There’s shouting in the background, metal scraping, muffled curses, wind rushing past the phone.
“Boss—fuck—Viktor, listen…” Marko’s breath comes fast, uneven. “We messed up.”
My shoulders lock. “Explain.”
“We were on guard but a cyclist suddenly came out of nowhere and crashed right into our table. Took both of us down with him. Knocked everything over. We thought it was an accident but—”
“It wasn’t,” I grind out.
“No,” Marko says, his voice breaking. “We know that now. While we were getting untangled, two men slipped into the shop. By the time we realized, we heard shouting, then nothing. When we got there, the door was already locked.”
Rage drums behind my ribs like a second heartbeat.
“And Natalya?” My voice is deadly flat.
“We haven’t seen her,” Marko says. “We think they grabbed her and forced her into the back. We tried the doors, but—”
Another voice cuts in Pavel, the second man.
“Boss, they barricaded everything. We can’t get in without making noise. Or breaking something.”
“Which could get her hurt,” Marko finishes.
I close my eyes for half a second, swallowing the instinct to roar.
“Where is Alexei’s second unit?”
“North and south entry,” Pavel says. “We’re all in position. But, boss…”
“Say it.”
“We don’t know what’s on the other side of that door. If we force it, and they’re armed, she could be caught in the line of fire.”
A long, violent silence stretches between us.
My men are good but they’re blind right now. And they’re panicking.
Because even though I don’t say it, they know what Natalya means to me. I exhale slowly, fighting to keep my voice controlled.
“No one moves,” I say, every word a blade. “No one touches a door or window. No one tries to break in.”
“But—”
“No one.” My voice cracks like a whip. “I’m five minutes out. You do nothing until I get there. If any of you act without my order, and she gets hurt…”
“We understand,” Marko says immediately. “We’ll hold position.”
“We won’t let anything happen to her,” Pavel adds, more quietly.
My throat tightens, not with emotion, but with the murderous need to get to her.
“I’m on my way,” I say. Then I lower my voice; “And listen to me carefully.”
“Yes, boss.”
“When I arrive,” I murmur, stepping into the backseat as the engine revs beneath me, “we end this. Fast. Clean. And permanently.”
“Yes sir.”
I hang up.
My hand stays clenched around the phone until my knuckles crack.
Five minutes.
Five fucking minutes between her and whatever those worthless bastards think they can do.
I’ll kill them all—I’ll kill anyone who hurts the woman I love.