Chapter 25
Jake
The wind howled around our SUV as we approached Alexei’s estate, visibility decreasing with each passing minute. I kept my eyes on the GPS, watching Nora’s tracker signal remain stationary within the compound. At least she wasn’t being moved again. Yet.
“We’re approaching the south entrance,” our driver announced, slowing as we turned onto an unmarked road nearly hidden by snow drifts. “I can’t take you any closer without risking detection.”
I nodded, checking my weapon one last time. “This is good. We’ll proceed on foot from here.”
Ella sat rigidly beside me, her face pale but determined. I’d seen that look before—when Scout was poisoned, when she’d faced down Mikhail at the cabin. It was the look of a mother who would walk through fire for her child.
“Remember,” I said as we prepared to exit the vehicle, “always stay between Mikhail and me. If anything goes sideways, you get to Nora and get out. Don’t wait for us. Connor, Mia, and Rory will be there in the tunnels. If no one appears within five minutes of getting Nora, they will come in.”
She nodded, pulling on the black watch cap Declan had given her. “I won’t leave without her.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, catching her arm. “You get her and go. No matter what happens to Mikhail or me. Promise me, Ella.”
Her eyes met mine, fierce and unwavering. “I promise.”
Mikhail checked his earpiece, then pointed through the swirling snow. “The service tunnel entrance is approximately two hundred yards that way, hidden behind a maintenance shed. It’s rarely used, but my father would have it guarded.”
We slipped out of the SUV into the biting cold, the snow immediately soaking through my pants as we crouched low. The wind muffled our movements as we made our way through the trees bordering the property, staying well back from the security fence that surrounded the estate.
“Team One in position,” Declan’s voice crackled through our earpieces. “Ready on your mark.”
“Copy,” Mikhail responded quietly. “Two minutes.”
We reached the maintenance shed—little more than a small outbuilding nearly buried in snow drifts—and circled to find the tunnel entrance. Just as Mikhail had predicted, a single guard stood watch, stamping his feet against the cold and looking thoroughly miserable.
Mikhail gave me a nod, then circled wide to approach from behind. I watched as he moved with surprising stealth for a man his size, appearing behind the guard like a ghost. One quick movement, and the guard slumped silently into the snow.
“Clear,” Mikhail called softly.
I guided Ella forward, keeping my body between her and any potential threat. Mikhail was already working on the access panel beside a heavy metal door partially hidden by snow.
“Declan, we’re at the entrance,” I said into my mic.
“Copy that. Diversion in three, two, one—”
A series of explosions rocked the far side of the compound, bright flashes visible even through the thickening snowfall. Alarms immediately began blaring across the estate.
Mikhail got the door open, revealing a dark tunnel barely tall enough to stand in. “Quickly,” he urged, ushering us inside.
The service tunnel was damp and cold, smelling of mold and disuse. Our flashlights cut weak paths through the darkness as we moved forward in single file, Mikhail leading, Ella between us.
“The tunnel splits ahead,” Mikhail whispered over his shoulder. “Left leads to the kitchen, right to the wine cellar. The kitchen will be busy with staff responding to the alarm. Cellar is our best bet.”
I checked the tracker on my phone. “Nora’s signal is coming from the second floor, west wing.”
“My father’s private quarters,” Mikhail confirmed. “He’d keep her close.”
We reached the junction and took the right passage, moving as quickly as we dared in the near darkness. After what seemed like an eternity, we came to another door. Mikhail paused, listening intently before attempting to open it.
“It’s locked from the other side,” he whispered.
I moved forward, examining the hinges in the beam of my flashlight. “Stand back,” I instructed, removing a small tool kit from my pocket.
It took less than a minute to remove the pins from the hinges, allowing us to pull the door toward us instead of pushing it outward. The wine cellar beyond was dimly lit and mercifully empty, rows of bottles gleaming in the low light.
“Security system?” I asked, scanning for cameras.
“Blind spot by design,” Mikhail replied. “My father doesn’t want his private collection monitored too closely. Even by his own people.”
We moved through the cellar to a spiral staircase at the far end. I checked my watch—eight minutes since Declan and the others had set off the explosions. We needed to move faster.
“Status report,” I whispered into my mic.
“Holding their attention at the main gate,” Declan responded, his voice punctuated by what sounded like gunfire. “But they’ve called in reinforcements. You’ve got maybe ten minutes before they realize it’s a diversion.”
“Copy that,” I replied. “We’re entering the main house now.”
At the top of the stairs, Mikhail paused again, listening at the door before easing it open. We emerged into a service hallway, thankfully deserted.
“This way,” Mikhail directed, leading us toward what appeared to be a main corridor. “We’ll need to access the west staircase.”
We moved quickly but cautiously, flattening ourselves against the wall at the sound of running footsteps. Two guards rushed past the end of our hallway, heading toward the commotion at the front of the house.
“Clear,” I whispered, and we continued.
The mansion was a maze of corridors and rooms, each more opulent than the last. Even in the midst of our mission, I couldn’t help noticing the obscene wealth on display. All built on blood money, much like the MacGallan home.
We reached the west staircase without seeing anymore guards, but my instincts were screaming that it was too easy. Alexei was too smart, too paranoid to leave his defenses this thin, diversion or no diversion.
“I don’t like this,” I murmured to Mikhail as we climbed the stairs. “Where is everyone?”
His expression darkened. “The panic room. He must have taken her there already.”
Ella’s sharp intake of breath made both of us turn. “The tracker,” she said, holding up her phone. “It’s moving.”
I checked my own screen. She was right—Nora’s signal was now descending, moving deeper into the house.
“Basement level,” Mikhail confirmed, his face grim. “The panic room is essentially a bunker. Once they’re inside, we can’t get to them without explosives.”
“Let’s go,” I said, already turning back down the stairs. “Before that door closes.”
We raced back the way we had come, this time with less caution. Speed was more important than staying hidden. Mikhail led us down another set of stairs, deeper into the house, following the tracker’s signal.
“Left here,” he directed, turning down a corridor lined with what looked like storage rooms. “The entrance is behind a bookcase in my father’s study at the end of this hall.”
As we approached, I heard voices—a man speaking sharply in Russian, and then, unmistakably, Nora’s voice:
“I want to go home! Let me go!”
Ella surged forward at the sound, and I barely caught her arm before she could break into a run. “Wait,” I whispered. “We do this right, because we won’t get a second chance.”
She nodded, though I could feel her trembling with the effort of restraining herself.
We crept closer to the partially open door of the study. Through the gap, I could see an older man with silver hair—Alexei, I assumed—gripping Nora’s arm as he tried to pull her toward a bookcase that had been swung away from the wall, revealing a heavy steel door beyond.
“You will obey me,” he was saying in heavily accented English. “We don’t have time for this nonsense.”
“No!” Nora twisted in his grip, her small face fierce with defiance. “My mom is coming for me. And Jake, too. They’ll find me!”
Pride surged through me at her courage, even as fear for her safety tightened around my heart like a vise.
Mikhail motioned for us to hold position while he circled around to approach from another entrance. I nodded, drawing my weapon and positioning myself to cover the doorway.
“Ella,” I whispered, “when I give the signal, you stay behind me until I say it’s clear. Then get to Nora as fast as you can.”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving her daughter through the doorway.
“Team One, we need an extraction point,” I murmured into my mic. “South side, two minutes.”
“Negative,” came Declan’s strained reply. “We’re pinned down at the main gate. You’re on your own for now.”
I cursed silently. Plan B, then.
“Mikhail,” I said into the mic. “Change of plan. We go in together, now.”
“Ready,” came his terse reply.
I took a deep breath, steadying my aim. “Three, two, one—let’s go!”
I kicked the door open, weapon raised. “Alexei! Let her go!”
Simultaneously, Mikhail burst through the side entrance, his gun trained on his father.
Alexei’s head snapped up, his eyes widening first in surprise, then narrowing with calculation. In one swift movement, he yanked Nora in front of him, using her as a human shield.
“Mikhail,” he said, his voice cold with contempt. “Still playing the hero, I see.”
“Let her go, Father,” Mikhail demanded, his weapon unwavering. “It’s over. Interpol has the evidence. They’re moving on your operations as we speak.”
Alexei laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “Nothing is over until I say it is. And I have something you want.” He tightened his grip on Nora, who whimpered in pain.
I adjusted my stance, trying to find a clear shot, but Alexei kept Nora perfectly positioned between us. “There’s no way out,” I said evenly. “The authorities will be here within the hour. Your best option is to release the girl and surrender.”
His eyes flickered to me, dismissive. “The rancher,” he sneered. “You think you can threaten me in my own home?”
“Jake,” Nora called, her voice small but determined. “I knew you’d come.”
“I promised, didn’t I?” I replied, keeping my voice steady for her sake. “Everything’s going to be okay, Nora. Just stay calm.”
Alexei began backing toward the panic room, dragging Nora with him. “Touching,” he mocked. “But futile. The girl comes with me. She is Petrova blood—my legacy.”
“She is a child,” Mikhail said, his voice razor-sharp. “My child. And you will never touch her again.”
I saw Ella in my peripheral vision, waiting just outside the doorway as instructed. Her face was a mask of barely contained fury and fear.