Chapter 28 Mikhail
MIKHAIL
The house is too quiet when I return from my meeting with Ricardo.
I pause in the foyer, my hand still on the door handle, and listen. No footsteps.
No voices.
No sound of Sophia moving through the rooms like she usually does, bringing life to these cold spaces.
The silence presses against my eardrums like a physical weight.
“Sophia?” My voice echoes off the marble floors.
Nothing.
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart already beginning to race.
She’s probably just sleeping.
Or with Tony.
Or in the bath.
There are a hundred reasonable explanations for why she’s not answering.
But the moment I push open our bedroom door, I know.
The bed is made with military precision, the pillows arranged exactly as Elena leaves them.
Sophia never makes the bed like that.
She always leaves it rumpled, the sheets twisted from her restless sleep, my pillow still bearing the indent of her head when she curls against it.
I move to the closet.
Her clothes are still there, hanging in neat rows.
Her shoes lined up on the rack.
Everything looks normal, untouched.
Except for the small overnight bag that’s missing from the top shelf.
My hands shake as I check the bathroom.
Her toothbrush is gone.
The small bottle of perfume she keeps on the counter.
The hair tie she always leaves wrapped around the faucet.
She’s left me.
The realization hits like a bullet to the chest, stealing my breath.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, my legs suddenly unable to support me.
She’s actually left me.
That’s when I see the note.
It’s propped against my pillow, a single piece of paper folded in half.
My name is written on the outside in her careful handwriting, and my hands tremble as I pick it up.
Mikhail,
I can’t watch you destroy yourself anymore. I can’t stand by while you disappear into this rage, becoming the very thing you swore to fight against. You’ve been so consumed with protecting me that you’ve forgotten how to just be with me.
I need my husband back. The man who held me after nightmares. The man who showed me his sister’s photographs and let me see his pain. The man who made love to me like I was something precious.
I’m taking matters into my own hands. I’m going to end this war with Lorenzo, one way or another. By the time you read this, it will already be done.
I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment you showed me you were more than the monster who kidnapped me. But love isn’t enough if you won’t let me in or if you won’t let me help you carry this burden.
If I don’t come back, know that you were worth loving. Even the dark parts. Especially the dark parts.
Always yours,
Sophia
The paper crumples in my fist as rage and terror war in my chest.
She’s gone to Lorenzo.
My beautiful, brave, stupid wife has walked straight into the lion’s den because I was too blind to see what I was doing to her.
To us.
I read the note again, and this time I see what I missed before.
The slight smudge on the word “love,” as if a tear fell there.
The way her handwriting wavers on “always yours,” like her hand was shaking.
She was terrified when she wrote this.
Terrified but determined.
Just like the night I found her in the tunnels, when her claustrophobia nearly broke her but she kept moving forward anyway.
“Boss?” Marco’s voice comes from the doorway. “We’ve got a problem.”
I look up at him, and whatever he sees in my face makes him step back. “Sophia’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
“She went to Lorenzo.” The words taste like poison. “She’s trying to end this herself.”
Marco’s face goes pale. “When?”
“I don’t know.” I check my phone, but there are no messages, no missed calls. “Could have been hours ago.”
I’m already moving, shoving the note into my pocket and grabbing my gun from the nightstand.
My mind races through possibilities. Where would Lorenzo take her? The old textile factory? One of his warehouses? The docks?
“Get everyone,” I order Marco. “I want every location Lorenzo’s ever used searched.”
“On it.” He pulls out his phone, already dialing.
I head downstairs, my boots heavy on the marble steps.
How did I let this happen?
How did I become so consumed with hunting Lorenzo that I drove away the only person who matters?
The answer is simple, brutal in its honesty.
I was afraid.
Afraid that if I let myself feel anything other than rage, I’d have to face the guilt.
The knowledge that I killed her father for crimes he didn’t commit.
That I destroyed her life based on lies.
That every moment of pain I inflicted on her was for nothing.
So I buried myself in vengeance.
Told myself I was protecting her when really I was just running from the truth.
I’m such a goddamn coward.
Tony appears in the hallway, leaning heavily on the wall.
He shouldn’t be out of bed, but the look on his face tells me he already knows.
“She’s gone, isn’t she?” His voice is rough with pain and exhaustion.
“How did you know?”
“Because I know my sister, even if I haven’t been around her these past six years.
” He moves closer, each step clearly costing him.
“She’s been planning this. I could see it in her eyes when you were talking about the safe house.
She had that look she used to get when we were kids and she’d decided to do something stupid and brave. ”
“Why didn’t you stop her?” The accusation comes out harsher than I intend.
“Because she’s right.” Tony meets my gaze steadily. “You’ve been destroying yourself, Mikhail. Pushing everyone away. Becoming exactly what Lorenzo wanted you to become.”
He sighs heavily. “Besides, just because I figured she’d do something, doesn’t mean I knew what she was going to do. Or when for that matter.”
The words hit their mark because they’re true.
I have been becoming a monster.
The kind of man who tortures prisoners without remorse. Who kills without hesitation.
Who values revenge over the people he claims to love.
True, those traits have served me as a Pakhan, but I’ve got a wife to protect now.
A woman who has come to mean more to me than my own life.
“I have to find her.” My voice cracks on the words.
“Then find her.” Tony grips my shoulder with his good hand. “But when you do, you better be the man she fell in love with. Not this hollow shell you’ve been wearing.”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
Then I’m moving again, heading for the garage where my men are already gathering.
That’s when my phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
My blood turns to ice as I open the message.
It’s a video.
My hands shake so badly I almost drop the phone as I press play.
The image is grainy, shot in low light, but I’d recognize that face anywhere.
Sophia.
She’s chained to a pipe in what looks like a warehouse.
The same warehouse where I first brought her.
Where this nightmare began.
Her wrists are raw from the metal cuffs, and there’s a bruise blooming on her cheek.
But her blue eyes are clear, defiant, as they stare directly at the camera.
“Mikhail.” Her voice is steady. “Don’t come. Please. This is my choice. My decision. Don’t let him use me against you.”
The camera shifts, and Lorenzo’s face fills the screen. His blue eyes are cold, calculating, and his smile makes my stomach turn.
“Hello, nephew.” His voice is almost cheerful. “I believe I have something that belongs to you. Or should I say someone?”
The camera pans back to Sophia, and Lorenzo moves into the frame beside her.
His hand tangles in her black hair, yanking her head back. She gasps but doesn’t cry out.
“She came to me, you know. Walked right into my trap like the naive little girl she is. Thought she could negotiate. Thought she could save you from yourself.”
He releases her hair and moves closer to the camera. “Here’s how this works. You come alone to the warehouse. The same one where you first claimed her. Poetic, don’t you think? You come alone, unarmed, and maybe I’ll let her live. Maybe.”
“Don’t.” Sophia’s voice cuts through. “Mikhail, don’t you dare. He’ll kill you.”
Lorenzo laughs, the sound echoing off unseen walls. “She’s probably right. But you’ll come anyway, won’t you? Because despite everything, despite all your talk of being a monster, you’re weak. You love her. And that love will be your downfall.”
The video shifts again, showing Sophia’s face in close-up.
There’s something in her eyes, something she’s trying to tell me, but I can’t read it through my panic.
“You have one hour,” Lorenzo says. “Come alone or watch her die on live stream.”
The video ends, replaced by a text message with an address I know by heart.
The warehouse where I first took her.
Where I chained her to a pipe and told her she’d pay for her father’s sins.
Where this whole twisted story began.
Now it’s where it might end.