Chapter 37
YURI
The air in the basement control room is tense and electric. Lev, Luk, Alexei, and I stand shoulder to shoulder, gathered tightly around a bank of glowing monitors, their screens throwing ghostly blue shadows across our faces.
Elena sits at the keyboard, guiding the silent drone we’ve dispatched through the suburban twilight.
It took every last trick Elena had, every CCTV camera, every city traffic cam, to trace Spalding’s car and locate Astrid.
And the only reason we found them was because of Elena’s false blind spot—a baited trap for just this type of betrayal.
Tatiana thought she knew our estate security.
She was wrong.
“Approaching the location,” Elena says quietly, eyes locked on the central monitor.
The drone glides smoothly above deserted streets and overgrown industrial parks, finally hovering near the edge of a crumbling office complex.
The parking lots are cracked with weeds, and shadows cling to every neglected corner.
My jaw tightens. “This has to be it.”
Alexei nods grimly. “Looks like the kind of hole Spalding would choose.”
Elena pushes the drone closer, and we all lean in instinctively as vehicles appear in the feed—two black SUVs, their windows darkened, license plates carefully obscured. Guards stand motionless, heavily armed and positioned strategically around the building.
Then Lev points suddenly, sharply. “Wait—there, on the balcony.”
The drone shifts angles, zooming in with crystal clarity. Two figures stand side by side in tense conversation, lit faintly by the sinking sun. One is unmistakably Spalding, clearly agitated, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
The other man steals the breath from my lungs.
“Christian De la Rosa,” I mutter, the words cold and bitter in my mouth. Fury spikes instantly through my veins, white-hot.
Alexei swears under his breath. “How the hell did he get out of jail?”
“They must’ve sprung him,” Elena murmurs. “Spalding’s still got connections. He’d know exactly which strings to pull to make it happen.”
Lev crosses his arms, glaring murderously at the screen. “Explains why De la Rosa looks so damned comfortable. He’s probably got FBI protection right now.”
Luk snorts humorlessly, voice low and dangerous. “I wish this drone had a sniper rifle. We’d end this right here and now.”
Alexei nods slowly. “If wishes were bullets…”
I barely hear their banter. My fists clench tightly at my sides, nails digging painfully into my palms as I stare at the man who nearly destroyed our family.
De la Rosa, charming sociopath and master manipulator, free again.
Free and standing comfortably within reach of the woman carrying my children.
“Pull the drone back,” I snap.
Elena obeys instantly, easing the drone to a safer distance. The perimeter around the building is crawling with guards, far too many for a clean strike. This isn’t going to be subtle; it’s going to be brutal, messy, an all-out war.
The idea of Astrid alone, frightened, trapped by these bastards, twists like a blade in my chest. The thought of harm coming to her, to our babies, is unbearable.
“We don’t have long,” Elena says quietly, sensing my urgency. “They’ll move soon.”
“Then we move first,” I say. “And fast. Load every weapon, gather every soldier. Spare nothing. I want them overwhelmed and destroyed.”
Lev meets my eyes, nodding once. “They won’t know what hit them.”
Luk turns to Alexei. “Get the strike team ready.”
Alexei nods. “I’ll lead them in personally.”
Elena glances up, eyes blazing. “And what about Tatiana?”
I exhale sharply, the betrayal raw. “She chose her side.”
I turn toward the stairwell, heart pounding with fury and determination. The others follow closely behind, each step echoing our resolve, each breath sharpening our rage. Every second matters now, every heartbeat brings us closer to Astrid.
De la Rosa wants a war. Spalding wants leverage.
They’ll get neither.
They’ll get annihilation.
The armory smells like oil and cold steel.
It's tucked beneath the oldest wing of the estate—stone walls, narrow corridors, a holdover from a time when the Ivanovs prepared for war. Inside, everything gleams with ruthless purpose; rows of rifles, crates of ammunition, the glint of polished slides and carbon steel.
Luk slams a magazine into place, the click echoing like an exclamation point. Lev straps on his vest, face expressionless, methodical. Alexei double-checks his rifle.
It’s almost ceremonial, the way we gear up. We’ve done this before, dozens of times. But this time feels different.
Elena stands near the shelves, her laptop sitting open on an overturned weapons crate, her fingers working the keyboard as she coordinates with the crew in the field.
She’s calm, efficient, and lethal in her own way—her mind is just as deadly as our weapons.
She glances at me as I secure my holster, her eyes sharp.
“They’ll be expecting us,” she says.
“Good.” I glance at Luk, who’s busy tightening a tactical belt over his vest. “Remember that time in Prague? When the Armenians thought they could outmaneuver us in that subway garage?”
He grins, eyes glinting. “Yeah. Lev pretended to be drunk so they’d underestimate him.”
Lev gives a faint smile. “Worked, didn’t it?”
Alexei chuckles. “You retched on their boots. That’s commitment.”
Elena cracks a grin.
It’s dark humor, but it holds us together, threading the years between then and now, reminding us of who we are and what we’ve survived. Each battle has left scars and taught lessons. This one will be no different.
But it might be the last.
I finish lacing my boots, adjusting the weight of the vest on my shoulders. My hand hovers over my sidearm.
Astrid’s face flashes through my mind. Her warmth, her brilliance, her stubbornness. The way she looked at me the last time I saw her.
The memory hurts. But it sharpens everything.
I take a slow breath.
We’re almost ready.
My phone buzzes with an unknown number. I glance at the screen. It’s not one of our encrypted channels. Not one of the burner numbers we use for business.
A chill crawls up my spine.
I answer it. There’s a brief pause on the other end then a voice. Calculating. Amused.
“Hello, Yuri.”
I step away from the others, phone to my ear. “Spalding.” My jaw clenches. “Bold of you to call me directly.”
“I’m a bold man,” he replies. “I think it’s time we talked. Face-to-face.”
“I don’t waste my breath on pieces of shit like you.”
“You will,” he says smoothly. “Because I’ve got something you want. And I’m offering a chance to resolve this like gentlemen.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Is that what you think this is? A negotiation?”
“No weapons. Just you and me. A conversation. Neutral ground.”
“What’s the address?”
He rattles off a location. It’s the same place we tracked by drone. He doesn’t know we’re already aware of where he is.
“Bring anyone else, and she dies,” he adds.
I’m about to respond when my phone buzzes again with an incoming file. I switch screens, and the video auto-plays.
Astrid.
She’s tied to a chair in what looks like an abandoned office. Her head is up but her eyes are wild, scanning the room like a trapped animal. She’s breathing hard. My heart twists.
“She’s alive—for now,” Spalding says. “But I can’t make any promises if you play dirty.”
“Don’t touch her,” I growl. “If you so much as look at her wrong, I will make sure you leave this world in pieces.”
He chuckles. “So you’re coming, then?”
I don’t answer. I hang up. I stare at the phone for a beat longer than I should.
She’s scared. But she’s fighting. I saw it in her eyes.
“She’s at the office park,” I tell the others as I return. “Spalding doesn’t know we’ve found it.”
Lev scoffs. “What’s the play?”
“He’s trying to lure me into a trap.”
“And you’re going?” Elena asks, concern etched across her face.
“I’m going,” I say. “But not alone.”
They all look at me.
“He wants to spring a trap. So let’s spring one of our own.”