Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Henry
The glow of the monitors washed the office in blue. I refused to look away despite the exhaustion that had consumed me since we landed in Georgia. Hell, since the adrenaline of finding and rescuing Ariana had worn off.
I rubbed my eyes, but continued to watch the feed of her as she slept in one of my guest bedrooms. She looked so small, her face pale, hair splayed across the pillow, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
Thankfully, her injuries weren’t too bad. Mild concussion. Bruised ribs. Sprained knee that would make it difficult to walk for a few days. Nothing that required surgery.
Nothing that wouldn’t heal.
For now, all I could do was watch. And wait. And hope when she woke up and I told her the truth, she wouldn’t hate me.
That she’d believe me.
She had to believe me.
I didn’t know what I’d do if she didn’t. If she looked at me with the same disgust she did when I first brought her to the cabin.
The door to the office opened, and I glanced away from the monitors. Blake stepped inside, wearing his usual uniform of an all-black suit. Like he’d crawled out of a shadow and forgot to leave it behind.
I once asked him why he always dressed in black, and he joked it was to match the color of his soul.
It was obvious he had demons much like I did. I never pressed him to talk about it. In our line of work, there was an unwritten rule not to ask too many questions. After all, Blake had a certain set of skills that had proven quite useful.
I didn’t ask how he knew how to make a body disappear. Or how to clean a crime scene. Or why he kept scouring every corner of the web for a woman named Chandler Meadows. If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me.
“You look like hell,” he remarked, his eyes going straight to the monitors as he dropped onto the couch beside Cato and scratched his head.
“It’s been a night.” I didn’t take my gaze off the screen.
“How’s she holding up?”
“Good, all things considered.”
“And you?” he pressed. “How are you doing?”
“Okay.” I pushed out a long sigh, running a hand over my face as I fought to stay awake. “All things considered.” My words carried a different weight than before.
I was still processing everything that had happened over the last several hours. It wasn’t even noon yet. It had only been a little more than twelve hours since Salvatore had called, sending my night into a tailspin. It seemed like so much longer. Days. Weeks.
A lifetime.
“How’d things go up north?” I asked, turning my chair around to face him.
His dark hair was disheveled, and his brown eyes showed signs of exhaustion, probably from pulling an all-nighter to help clean up the mess I’d left in Maine.
“Handled,” he replied simply. “All traces you were ever at that bunker are gone. Disposed of the bodies, then drove their car to a remote area and crashed it into a tree to make it look like they lost control before setting out on foot.”
“Did you get any hits on who they were?”
“Confirmed Bratva. Lower level, but definitely connected.”
I knew they were, but it was good to have confirmation of my suspicions. Unfortunately, with every confirmed piece of information, it just caused more questions.
“Did you find out anything more about the company the plane was registered to?”
“Nothing yet. But I did find something else that might be of interest to you.”
I perked up. “What’s that?”
He grabbed his phone and pulled up a photo of the art museum seemingly taken the same night of the charity gala I’d attended where I first spoke to Ariana.
Red carpet. Celebrities. Champagne smiles.
“What’s so special about celebrities being photographed going into a charity event?”
“Look past that,” he instructed. “Far right corner.”
I grabbed my glasses and zoomed in, squinting at the two blurry figures. One was Victor Kane. The man beside him was partially obscured, but I recognized him from that night.
“That’s the same man I saw approach Victor at the gala.” I met Blake’s eyes. “Who is he?”
“Maxim Covell.”
I furrowed my brow, unfamiliar with the name. “Is that supposed to ring a bell?”
“He’s a lawyer for the Bratva. Handles their legitimate business dealings.”
He swiped to another photo, then handed the phone back to me. This one showed Victor climbing into an SUV, Covell seeming to scan his surroundings before joining them.
“Do we know who was in the car?”
Blake took his phone from me again, pulling up yet another photo before returning it to me. This one was a darkened image of a man sitting in a black SUV.
“Nikolai Volkov. Obshchak of the Miami Bratva.”
“So Victor gets pulled out of a public event to talk to the Obshchak, then mere hours later, a low-level Bratva soldier attempts to abduct his wife?”
“Looks that way,” Blake confirmed.
This wasn’t exactly earth-shattering. I’d known the Bratva was somehow involved in this after Salvatore confirmed as much.
But one question continued to nag at me.
“Why?”
“I’m still looking into Victor’s connection to the Bratva. If there’s something to find, I’ll find it. He did have his publicist issue a statement late last night.”
“What was that?”
“Something to the effect that he’s stepping back from public appearances to focus on finding his wife.”
“I bet he is.” I snorted a humorless laugh.
“He left his estate on Star Island after midnight in a bit of a hurry,” Blake continued. “I tried tracking his cell, but it looks like he turned it off. I have people checking his houses, his hotels, every property with his name on it. Every place he’s ever visited. He won’t hide forever.”
I’d expected him to disappear, especially after the threats I’d made last night.
Maybe I’d acted a bit rash when I threatened him.
But I couldn’t help it. Not after confirming he’d put a price on Ariana’s head.
Not after learning everything he’d put her through.
He needed to know his carefully built house of cards was about to fall.
And I was the one who’d make sure it happened.
“He did make one phone call before going off-grid,” Blake added after a few seconds.
“To whom?”
“Dr. Wilson Schaffer.”
I perked up at the name I knew quite well. The doctor overseeing Ariana’s mother’s care.
I feared Victor might use Ariana’s mother to retaliate against her…or me. So I’d asked Blake to put together a team to pull Daphne out of her care facility and bring her here. Learning Victor had called the doctor after our conversation solidified I’d done the right thing.
“Any idea what they discussed?”
“No, but I can pay him a visit.”
I’d known Blake long enough to know a “visit” wouldn’t entail a cup of tea and cakes. It would end with the doctor bleeding out and begging for his life.
And if he’d done anything to hurt Ariana’s mother, I wanted to be the one to make him bleed.
“Let’s hold off for now. See what we can find out about him.”
“You think there’s something off. Don’t you?”
I released a long exhale. “I don’t know. But I want to be sure. I’m not taking any chances. Not anymore. Not after everything that’s happened with Ariana. Everything I’ve learned.”
I could feel Blake’s careful gaze studying me in the silence before he remarked, “You care about her, don’t you?”
My first instinct was to deny it. Remind him Ariana was merely a pawn. The queen I’d use to destroy the king.
But that was no longer the case.
“I was wrong about her,” I admitted.
“How so?”
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before meeting his gaze. So much had happened since I’d spoken to him about my plan. So much had changed.
“Before I took her, I hated what she represented. The dresses. The galas. The easy life. I thought she’d chosen it. That she loved it and didn’t care who she had to step on to live that lifestyle.”
I swallowed hard, cursing myself for not seeing it all before. Now that I knew the truth, it was so fucking obvious.
“She’s not that woman. Every smile. Every laugh. It was just an act. A part she had to play to survive.”
“Survive?” Blake pressed.
I slowly nodded. “He’s been torturing her. Beating her. Assaulting her. Controlling every part of her fucking existence.” My voice cracked, my blood boiling with every word. “She’s not his wife. She’s his goddamn property. And I was too fucking blinded by my hatred to see it.”
Blake’s jaw tightened.
He may have been involved in questionable activities from time to time. May have had no problem disposing of a body or cleaning a crime scene. But there was one thing we could both agree on. We despised anyone who harmed a woman or child.
“So what happens now?” he asked.
“Now I tell her the truth.” I shifted my gaze to the monitor to see Ariana still sleeping, the faint rise and fall of her chest providing me some semblance of comfort. “And pray she doesn’t hate me beyond repair.”
“And Victor?”
“What about him?”
“I can leak rumors about his involvement in his wife’s disappearance to the press. Feed them some noise. Let public opinion do its thing.”
I shook my head. “He deserves more than a scandal or ruined reputation. He needs to understand how it feels to beg for mercy, only to have his pleas fall on deaf ears. Just like Ariana’s did for so long.
I want him to suffer. And even when I think he’s suffered enough, I want him to suffer more. For Ariana. And for Sarah.”
He considered my statement for several long moments. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. More concerned.
“This path you’re about to go down… There’s no going back.
There’s a difference between taking a life to protect someone, and taking a life out of vengeance.
If you do this, it will change you. I just want to make sure you understand the stakes.
That you’ll have to live with it for the rest of your life. Is she worth it?”
“Of course she is. Sarah’s my daughter.”
He gave me a knowing look. “I wasn’t talking about Sarah.” He glanced at the monitor where Ariana’s peaceful face filled the screen. “Is she worth it?”
There wasn’t even a question in my mind.
“Without a fucking doubt.”
He nodded a single determined nod. “Then that’s good enough for me.”