Chapter 24
Iskander
I ’m reviewing tactical maps in my office when my phone rings with Harper’s name on the screen. The panic in her voice cuts through me. “Iskander, they took her.” Harper’s words come out in gasping sobs. “They took Willa. Anton’s been shot, and they just grabbed her and drove away.”
The tactical maps slip from my hands, scattering across the floor while ice floods my veins. “Where are you now?”
“Still at the clinic parking lot. Anton’s alive, but his vest caught the bullet. He’s hurting but conscious.” Her voice breaks on a sob that makes my chest constrict. “Someone grabbed me from behind and covered my nose and mouth until I passed out. When I woke up, they were gone with Willa.”
I’m already moving toward the gun safe, pulling weapons while barking orders. “Stay with Anton. Don’t go anywhere alone. Timur is on his way.”
“There was chaos everywhere, and she looked so terrified.” Harper’s voice carries trauma that mirrors the rage building in my chest. “They had a gun pressed against her belly, threatening the babies.”
The image of masked men holding weapons to Willa’s pregnant stomach unleashes something savage in me. Every protective instinct I’ve ever possessed converges into murderous focus. “Harper, listen to me carefully. You’re safe now. I’m going to get her back.”
“Promise me.” Her plea cuts through the static. “Promise me you’ll bring her home.”
“I promise.” The vow emerges with absolute certainty. “No one who touched her will live to see dawn.”
I end the call and immediately shout for Timur, my voice carrying through the estate’s halls with enough force to bring him running. Within seconds, heavy footsteps thunder down the corridor as he appears in my doorway, already alert to crisis.
“What happened?” He takes in my weapons and scattered maps with immediate understanding.
“Mikhail has Willa. They took her via an armed abduction from the clinic. Harper and Anton are alive, but they took her.” I pull on tactical gear while speaking, muscle memory from years of combat preparation taking over. “How many men can you mobilize immediately?”
“Twelve here at the estate, plus the four already heading to the mountain facility.” His response comes so fast I can barely understand it as he pulls out his phone. “I’ll redirect the Plan L transport team immediately.”
Plan L. The elaborate deception I was planning to orchestrate, now rendered completely irrelevant by Mikhail’s bold move. While I planned to betray Willa’s trust to keep her safe, our enemy was planning to take that choice away from both of us.
“Get Anton on the phone. I need a full tactical report.” I check ammunition while speaking, fury building with each passing second. “Mobilize everyone.”
Timur dials rapidly while I continue arming myself. “Anton, report.” He puts the call on speaker so I can hear directly.
Anton’s voice comes through strained but clear with the professional control of a man trained to function through pain. “Four perimeter guards are down, sir. All headshots, execution style. They knew exactly where we were positioned.”
The news makes me clench my teeth to hold back a shout of anger. Four good men are dead because I underestimated Mikhail’s intelligence gathering. “Survivors?”
“One trailing SUV managed to follow the abductors. Last I heard from them, they were maintaining visual on the convoy heading northwest out of the city.” Anton pauses, and I hear him wince through pain. “They went dark after that, but protocol would be to maintain surveillance without engaging.”
Northwest, which offers plenty of rural areas with limited law enforcement and isolated locations for whatever Mikhail has planned. He’s drawing me away from my stronghold into territory where he controls the variables. “How many hostiles in the abduction?”
“At least six vehicles with professional coordination. Our men with eyes on estimate twenty-four operators minimum, and possibly more. They moved like an army, not street criminals.”
Timur meets my expression with grim understanding.
This was a planned operation designed to neutralize our security systematically before taking Willa.
Mikhail has been studying our protection protocols for weeks, identifying weaknesses and timing his strike perfectly.
“Anton, stay with Harper until medical arrives. Don’t let her out of your sight.
” I grab additional magazines while issuing orders.
“Timur, redirect all available assets to tracking that convoy.”
“Already done.” He’s coordinating through multiple phones while pulling on his own tactical gear. “Plan L team is en route to assist, plus I’m calling in favors from the Miami and Atlanta crews.”
My phone buzzes with an unknown number, and ice-cold certainty fills my stomach. I know exactly who’s calling before I answer. “Iskander Taranov.” My voice carries deadly calm despite the rage building in my chest.
“My old friend.” Mikhail Balakin’s voice oozes satisfaction through the speaker. “I have something that belongs to you.”
The sound of his voice after months of cat-and-mouse warfare triggers every violent instinct I’ve inherited from my father’s brutal legacy. “If you’ve hurt her, I’ll spend days killing you.”
“She’s unharmed…for now. Pregnant women require such delicate handling, especially when carrying multiple babies.” His words carry cruelty designed to maximize my psychological torture. “Seven children, I’m told. What an impressive legacy you’ve created.”
The casual mention of the pregnancy details makes me feel like I have glass shards floating through my bloodstream.
How long has he been watching her?
How much does he know about our private lives and vulnerabilities?
“What do you want?” I growl.
“I want you to come collect what belongs to you.” His tone shifts to something approaching command. “Come alone, or the next call you receive will be very different.”
“Where?”
“I’ll text you coordinates. You have two hours, or I start sending pieces of your family back to you.
” The line goes dead, but not before I hear something that stops my heart.
It’s Willa’s voice, distant but unmistakable, crying out my name with desperate fear.
The sound strikes me hard, transforming rage into something beyond rational thought.
My phone immediately buzzes with coordinates to a location that matches the northwest direction Anton reported. As expected, it’s in a rural area, isolated, and perfect for the confrontation Mikhail has been engineering since he arrived in my territory.
Timur inputs the coordinates on his own device and studies it with tactical assessment. “It’s a building, probably fortified to a compound by now, forty minutes from here. Satellite imagery shows multiple buildings, defensive positions, and a single access road.”
“How long to get our people in position?”
“Ninety minutes for full deployment. Sixty if we move fast and light.” He types on his tablet, coordinating multiple teams simultaneously. “He’s expecting exactly this response.”
The psychological warfare Mikhail is conducting suggests he knows exactly how to exploit my protective instincts while putting Willa in maximum danger. He wants me angry, desperate, and making emotional decisions instead of tactical ones.
“He’s not getting what he wants.” I shoulder my rifle and check my sidearms. “We go in heavy and smart, and we end this permanently.”
“The trailing SUV team just made contact.” Timur’s phone buzzes with incoming intel. “They’ve maintained visual on the compound. They’ve confirmed location and count at least fifteen hostiles on exterior patrol.”
I grimace, wishing we had more immediately available men. “Weapons?”
“Military grade. Automatic rifles, tactical gear, and coordinated positions.” He shows me real-time surveillance photos. “These are pros, not foot soldiers.”
The images confirm my worst fears about Mikhail’s preparation and resources. This isn’t just revenge.
My secure phone rings again with the same unknown number. This time, I answer with steel in my voice. “Balakin.”
“Having second thoughts?” Mikhail’s tone carries smug satisfaction.
“Just admiring your preparation. Fifteen men with military weapons are maintaining defensive positions.” I let him know his advantage isn’t as secret as he thinks. “Impressive for someone who’s about to die.”
“Confidence suits you, but circumstances have changed.” His voice hardens with years of accumulated hatred. “Your woman is more spirited than expected. She seems to think you’ll negotiate for her release.”
“Put her on the phone.”
“Briefly. Any attempt to communicate tactical information results in immediate consequences.” I can’t tell if he’s warning me or her about that.
Static crackles before Willa’s voice comes through, strained but defiant. “Iskander, don’t come alone. This is a trap.”
“I’m coming for you.” My voice carries promise and threat in equal measure. “Stay strong.”
“I love you.” Her words make my knees weak. “I love you, and I’m sorry about this morning.”
The line goes dead before I can respond, leaving me with the sound of her voice echoing in my mind.
She’s apologizing for our fight while being held hostage by enemies who want to use her death to destroy me.
The guilt of our unresolved argument cuts deeply, reminding me how many things I need to say to her once she’s safe.
“What did this morning’s fight involve?” Timur’s question carries tactical curiosity rather than personal interest.
“She wanted me to prioritize our relationship over business obligations. I chose a phone call over her ultrasound appointment.” The admission emerges with bitter irony. “She was asking for partnership, and I was planning to kidnap her instead.”
His expression shifts to something approaching understanding. “Plan L would have destroyed everything between you, but it would have kept her safe.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s a moot point. Now I get the chance to prove I can choose her over everything else that seems important.
” I’ll have to confess my plan to trick her, unable to live with it on my conscience, especially since I left that voicemail earlier, but now isn’t the time to focus on potential fallout from that.
I move toward the door, already mentally preparing for the assault ahead.
“First, we kill everyone between me and the woman I love.”
“Rules of engagement?”
“No prisoners unless they have information about additional threats. Everyone else dies.” My voice carries absolute finality. “Mikhail wanted to balance the scales by taking my family. Instead, he’s about to learn he would have been smarter to take the loss and walk away years ago.”
Timur nods grimly, understanding the stakes have shifted beyond tactical considerations into personal warfare. This isn’t business. It’s about family, which means normal rules no longer apply.
“Your personal armored vehicle is standing by, and I have a transponder on it. Our transport leaves in fifteen minutes, and we’ll have a full convoy with air support on standby.
” He checks his weapons. “The medical team is also turning back from the mountain retreat and will be on-site for emergency treatment if Willa needs immediate care.”
The mention of medical needs makes my stomach clench with new fear. Willa’s pregnancy creates complications beyond normal hostage situations. High stress, physical trauma, or medical emergencies could threaten not just her life but the lives of our unborn children.
“Make sure the medical team understands multiple pregnancy protocols.” I gather additional ammunition while speaking. “If something goes wrong during the rescue?—”
“They’re prepared for every scenario.” His reassurance cuts through my worst fears. “The obstetrician is on standby, and there’s a hospital capable of doing a C-section within ten minutes via the chopper if things go wrong.”
He makes no mention of NICU capabilities, but that doesn’t matter.
If something forces her into preterm labor now, our babies can’t possibly survive at fourteen weeks, so that simply can’t happen.
I force myself to focus on tactical realities instead of catastrophic possibilities.
Willa is strong, resourceful, and determined to protect our children.
She’ll survive whatever Mikhail puts her through until I can reach her.
In the armory, I select additional weapons, loading extra magazines, tactical knives, flash-bang grenades, and even a couple of bricks of C-4 with detonators.
I take anything I could possibly need to turn Mikhail’s fortress into his tomb.
The familiar weight of combat gear settles around me like armor. It’s more emotional than physical.
“One more thing.” I turn to Timur as we prepare to leave. “When we find Mikhail, I want him alive long enough to understand exactly what he’s lost by threatening her.”
“Understood.” His voice carries cold professionalism that’s kept us both alive through years of warfare. “Personal justice before tactical completion.”
As we move through the estate’s corridors, I think about the conversation I should have had with Willa this morning instead of fighting about priorities and ultimatums. She wanted partnership, and I gave her defensiveness.
She asked for presence, and I offered excuses.
I have to have a chance to make that up to her, along with all my other mistakes. No other outcome is acceptable.
Our convoy waits in the garage with engines running and men who’ve sworn loyalty with their lives loading final equipment.
I leave first in my armored sedan, giving the appearance of coming alone.
My men will be five minutes behind me. In forty minutes, I’ll reach Mikhail’s compound and settle a blood debt that’s been accumulating interest since his brother’s death.
Willa needs the monster Mikhail remembers, not the domesticated version I’ve been trying to become for her sake.
When I reach that compound, everyone between me and the woman I love will discover why people used to fear my name.
By sunset, Willa will be home safely, and Mikhail will have learned some threats carry consequences beyond his imagination.
This ends where it began—with violence and the simple truth that anyone who threatens my family dies. This time, I’m not fighting for territory or respect but for the only future worth having.