Chapter 9
ANDREI
I’m awakened from a dream of Liesl beneath me, mewling my name as I feel her soaking my fingers with an orgasm by the insistent buzzing of my phone on the nightstand next to me.
I jolt awake, my cock hard and throbbing, caught in the waistband of the pants I wore to sleep.
The tip has leaked all over my abs, leaving me sticky with my own pre-cum.
I realize dimly I was close to coming in my sleep like a teenager, as I reach for the phone.
The dream dissolves around me as I see Viktor’s name on the screen. If he’s calling me at this hour, it’s something that will require blood.
"Pakhan," he says without preamble. "Volkov has Yuri."
I sit bolt upright, already running through scenarios and outcomes in my head. Yuri is one of my key lieutenants, a man that I cannot afford to lose. And he’s smart, and canny. If he was caught…
This situation is worse than I’ve allowed myself to believe.
Not only because they somehow managed to get the drop on him, but because if I lose him, I will lose a significant amount of standing in the eyes of my men.
He worked for my father for most of his life.
He’s done more for this organization than I ever have.
Hell, if my men had their way, he’d have been pakhan. Him, or Viktor. If it worked that way, instead of my father passing it on to me. I’m painfully aware of how difficult this situation is, and how delicate.
And beyond all that, he knows too much about our operations to be in enemy hands for long.
"Alive?" I ask, though I already know the answer. If Yuri were dead, Viktor would have led with that.
"Yes. They sent proof of life twenty minutes ago." Viktor's voice is tight with controlled fury. " A video of him tied to a chair. Beaten but conscious. They're demanding ransom—two million dollars and territorial concessions in the port district."
I'm already out of bed, pulling on clothes with one hand while my mind works through the implications.
Two million is manageable, barely a dent in our reserves.
But territorial concessions? That's the real price.
Volkov is testing me, seeing if I'll sacrifice strategic position to save one man. Seeing if sentiment makes me weak.
"When?" I ask.
"Forty-eight hours, or they start sending pieces."
I doubt the forty-eight hours is without meaning. The same time-frame I gave them for Liesl.
I close my eyes briefly, allowing myself one moment of pure rage before I lock it down and think like a pakhan instead of a friend. Because that's what this situation requires—cold calculation, not emotion. I have to weigh one man's life against the stability of an entire organization.
"Assemble everyone. Meeting in thirty minutes. I want intelligence on where they're holding him, how many men, what kind of security. I want to know every option we have."
"Already working on it," Viktor says. "But Andrei—the men are going to want to know what you're planning. Whether we're paying or—"
"Thirty minutes," I repeat, and end the call.
I stand in my bedroom, surrounded by all the trappings of power, and I feel the weight of leadership settle over me, heavy and suffocating.
If I pay the ransom and make the territorial concessions, I save Yuri but show weakness. Every other organization will see it as proof that sentiment makes me vulnerable, that taking my men hostage is an effective strategy. It invites more kidnappings, more tests, more challenges to my authority.
If I refuse and let Yuri die, I send a message about the cost of failure and what happens when you get captured.
It's brutal but clear—in this life, you don't get taken alive.
You fight until you can't anymore, and if that means dying, then you die.
It demonstrates that I won't be manipulated through hostages.
Or there's the third option—the one that's already forming in my mind as I head downstairs—a tactical extraction. It would be fast, violent, and risky as hell. We’d go in, get Yuri out, and eliminate everyone involved in taking him.
It's the option that requires the most blood but potentially yields the best outcome—we get our man back and demonstrate that taking one of mine has consequences that extend far beyond ransom negotiations.
My men are already gathering when I arrive—Viktor, Alexei, Mikhail, and half a dozen others whose faces are grim with the knowledge that one of our own is in enemy hands. "Show me what we have," I say without preamble.
Viktor pulls up the proof of life video.
Yuri looks about as bad as I expected—face swollen, blood crusting around his nose and mouth, one eye nearly shut from the beating.
But he's conscious and alert, and when he looks at the camera there's no fear in his expression.
Just the knowledge that he might die but is refusing to break.
"They're holding him in a warehouse near the docks," Viktor says. " A former fish processing plant. Volkov's been using it as a secondary base for the past six months. We estimate there’s fifteen to twenty men on site at any given time, rotating shifts every twelve hours."
I study the layout, trying to determine whether an extraction is feasible or suicidal. The building is old, industrial, with limited access points. Too many places for defenders to set up kill zones."Security?" I ask.
"Heavy," Mikhail says. "They're expecting us to try something. Cameras on all approaches, armed guards at every entrance, and they've likely got Yuri in the most defensible position in the building."
"So a direct assault is out," Alexei says. "We'd lose half our men just getting through the door."
"Which is exactly why they chose that location," I say quietly, still studying the maps. "They want us to either pay or watch Yuri die. Those are the only options they think we have."
"What about negotiation?" Viktor asks carefully. "Not the full ransom, but something. A partial payment, limited territorial concessions. Something that gets Yuri back without completely capitulating."
I shake my head. "Negotiation shows weakness. The moment we start bargaining, every organization in the city will know we can be manipulated through hostages. It sets a precedent we can't afford."
"So we let him die?" Mikhail's voice is flat and carefully neutral, but I can hear the challenge underneath. "We just abandon one of our own?"
"I didn't say that."
"Then what are you saying, pakhan?" Alexei leans forward, hands flat on the table.
"Because from where I'm sitting, we have three options and they're all shit.
We pay and look weak. We refuse and lose a good man.
A loyal man. Or we try an extraction that will likely get more of our people killed. So which shit option are you choosing?"
The question hangs in the air, and I can feel all of them watching me, waiting to see what kind of leader I am. Whether I'm the type who sacrifices men for strategy or the type who risks everything to save one of his own… or the type who gives in just to get a man back.
The truth is, I don't know yet. All options have merit and all have catastrophic downsides. And the weight of choosing wrong—of making the decision that gets more people killed or undermines everything I've built—sits on my chest suffocatingly.
"I need time to think," I say finally. "We have time.
I want continuous surveillance on that warehouse.
I want to know every person who goes in or out, every shift change, every moment when their security might be vulnerable.
And I want contingency plans for both scenarios— extraction and abandonment.
We prepare for everything and decide when we have all the information. "
It's not the decisive answer they want, but I'm not going to make a choice this important without considering every angle, every consequence, every possible outcome.
The meeting continues for another hour, going over intelligence reports and the grim mathematics of how many men we might lose in various scenarios. By the time I dismiss everyone, the sun is starting to rise. I feel like I've aged a decade.
I head back upstairs, intending to review the intelligence reports alone, but I hear voices as I pass the hallway near Liesl's room. I slow my steps, listening.
"—can't believe he's actually considering letting Yuri die—"
"He's not considering it. He's weighing his options. It’s smart."
"Is it? I think he's more worried about his reputation than about saving one of our own."
"Keep your voice down. If he hears you talking like that—"
"What? He'll shoot me too? Add me to the list of people he's willing to sacrifice?"
I should interrupt and remind them that questioning their pakhan's decisions is a good way to end up on the wrong side of a bullet.
But I don't, because they're not wrong. I am calculating.
I am weighing Yuri's life against the other choices.
And the fact that I'm even having this internal debate probably means I've already made my choice, I just haven't admitted it to myself yet.
I continue past them, heading toward my room… and that's when I see her.
Liesl is standing in the hallway outside, clearly having heard the same conversation I did.
Her face is pale, her eyes wide, and I can see the exact moment when she pieces together what's happening.
When she realizes that someone's life is hanging in the balance and I'm the one who has to decide whether to save it.
"Andrei," she says softly, and there's something in her voice that makes me stop. It sounds almost like concern.
"Go back to your room," I say, but there's no heat in it. I'm too tired for heat.
"I heard them talking," she says, ignoring my order like she always does. "About someone being captured? And you having to make a choice."
I run my hand through my hair. "It’s not your concern."