23. Cora
23
CORA
V ika is seated in front of the laptop, her fingers flying over the keyboard, eyes sharp behind the glow of the screen. Line by line, the flash drive’s contents spill into the dark corners of the Internet.
Darren’s smuggling routes. Cartel affiliations. Offshore bank transactions.
Each file is a slow, calculated strike, a pebble dropped into still water, the ripples already moving outward.
We’re baiting the hook, casting the line. Now, all that’s left to do is wait.
Seconds stretch like hours.
Maxim leans forward slightly, his sharp eyes locked on the screen. Dmitri, silent and calculating, watches from the shadows, his arms crossed over his chest. No one speaks. No one moves.
Then—
Bzzzt.
My phone vibrates against the table.
The sound is deafening in the silence.
Every head turns. My stomach lurches.
I already know who it is before I even look.
My fingers tremble as I reach for it, flipping it over. The name on the screen makes my blood run cold.
Darren.
My throat tightens. I force myself to breathe, my heartbeat hammering like a war drum. My eyes flick to Ivan for the briefest moment, but his expression doesn’t change.
Slowly, I swipe the screen.
A message.
You have my attention. The flash drive for one million dollars. Tonight. Pier 17. Come alone.
Ivan turns to me so fast it’s like I’ve slapped him. His entire body shifts, going from ice-cold strategist to something far more dangerous. “Now you’ve done your part,” he says. “You stay here.”
“What? You agreed.”
His expression doesn’t change, but something in his gaze sharpens. “I needed you to get the meeting set up. It’s too dangerous for you to go in person, alone. I’d have to be insane to allow that.”
The air between us crackles, charged with heat and fury.
I feel the others watching—Maxim, Dmitri, the Bratva lieutenants—but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but the way Ivan is looking at me, the way he’s shutting me down like I don’t matter in my own damn war.
“You don’t trust me,” I accuse, my voice rising. “You never have. You don’t think I can handle myself.”
His jaw flexes. “I know you shouldn’t.”
Anger surges through me, hot and relentless. “You think you’re the only one who can do this? You think you’re the only one who’s lost something? I got us the flash drive. I got us here.”
“Job done,” Ivan snaps. “Now it’s my turn.”
I step closer, my heart pounding. “Fuck you.”
His nostrils flare.
One second I’m standing my ground, the next his hand clamps around my wrist in a steel grip.
“Ivan—”
I barely get the word out before he’s dragging me from the war room.
My boots skid against the stone floors as he pulls me down the hall, past the rows of heavy doors, past the Bratva men who pretend not to notice.
“Ivan!” I jerk my arm, trying to wrench free, but his grip only tightens. “Let me go.”
My pulse pounds.
I know where he’s taking me.
“No. No. You are not doing this!”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look at me.
And then?—
A door swings open.
I barely have time to fight before I’m shoved inside.
I whirl around just as the door slams shut.
Click.
The lock slides into place.
I stare at the handle, my chest rising and falling too fast.
Then—
“Ivan!”
I slam my fist against the door. “Open the fucking door!”
Silence.
I pound harder, my breath coming in sharp gasps. “You can’t do this!”
Nothing.
My hands curl into fists. My entire body shakes with rage, with frustration, with something deeper that I can’t name.
I take a step back. My heel hits the edge of the bed—because of course there’s a bed in here. Of course he put me in a room meant for keeping me. Planned this whole thing.
I scream in frustration, kicking the door as hard as I can. The impact reverberates up my leg, but I don’t care.
He doesn’t believe in you. He never did.
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. No. No, that’s not true.
But it feels true.
Because I’m here. In a locked room. Waiting while he goes to fight the war I started.
The sound of my phone vibrating makes me jolt. I sit upright. I must have fallen asleep. Hours have passed.
My pulse stutters as I whirl around, snatching it off the nightstand. The glow of the screen pierces the dim room.
A message.
From Ivan.
I hesitate before swiping it open.
Come to me, kitty kat. I need you. Pier 19.
My stomach twists.
My gut coils with unease. The code. He’s been forced to type that message.
This is a trap. Darren’s sent them all to pier 17 but he’s waiting for me at pier 19. And he’s got Ivan’s cell. Which means he’s got him.
My eyes land on the only possible exit—a high, narrow window near the ceiling.
I grab the chair near the small desk and smash it against the glass.
The sound shatters the silence, the sharp crack reverberating off the walls. Pieces rain down onto the floor, glittering in the dim light. Cold night air rushes in, biting against my skin.
I haul myself up, squeezing through the jagged opening. The glass scrapes against my jacket, slicing through fabric, but I don’t stop.
The drop outside is farther than I thought. My body slams into the ground, my breath leaving me in a painful whoosh. My palms scrape against the rough ground, my elbow stings, but I push myself up, ignoring the ache.
Gun tucked into my waistband, I move toward the garage. Ivan needs me. I’m coming.