Chapter 30 #2
Marco has my girl. He fucking has Laurel.
The steering wheel creaks under my grip as I weave through the snow-slicked streets, tires skidding on ice. My foot is jammed on the accelerator, desperate to get to her in time before that bastard does something to her and my unborn child.
Igor’s voice cuts through from the passenger seat. “Leonid, careful. The roads are shit with all this snow.”
I shoot him a death glare. “My girlfriend’s been taken by that bastard, and you think I give a fuck about the snow?”
He lets out a harsh breath. “I’m sorry. We’ll get her back. Just… stay in one piece so we can actually reach her.”
I slam my palm against the steering wheel hard enough to make the horn blare. “It’s my fault. All of it. I should’ve known Marco wouldn’t take what I did lying down. Should’ve had more men on her. Should’ve—” My voice cracks, raw. “I should’ve never let her out of my sight.”
Igor shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. We’ll find her. We’re close.”
My phone buzzes on the dash, Marco’s name flashing on the screen.
I snatch it up, thumb jabbing speaker as I answer.
Marco’s voice slithers through the line, smug. “How does it feel, Volkov? Having something of yours taken from you?”
Rage boils over. “If you harm one hair on her head, Marco, I will fucking end you. Slowly. Painfully. You will beg for death.”
He laughs, low, and mocking. “Oh, now it hurts, doesn’t it? When you were busy using my own niece against me. My niece, really? Did you think there wouldn’t be consequences?”
My knuckles whiten on the wheel. “Bring her back. Now.”
“Simple trade,” he says, casual as if we’re discussing shipping rates. “You return Lisa to me, and we can talk about getting your little schoolteacher back. Tick-tock, Pakhan.”
The line goes dead.
I roar, pure animal fury, and slam my fist into the steering wheel again, horn blaring into the night.
I glance at the tracking app still open on the screen. The dot blinks, her location hasn’t moved in twenty minutes. A warehouse district on the edge of the city. Marco’s territory.
Igor’s voice is quiet beside me. “We’ll be there soon. Sergei’s already mobilizing the crew. We’re getting her back, Leonid.”
I don’t answer. My jaw is locked so tight my teeth ache. Marco touched what’s mine. I’m going to butcher him. Piece by fucking piece. And when I’m done, there won’t be enough left to bury.
After driving for what feels like an eternity, though the dashboard clock says only an hour, the warehouse comes into view.
I kill the engine. Behind me, three more SUVs pull up, my men spilling out, weapons already drawn. Igor gives me a nod as we both step out.
We move in fast, quiet. The perimeter is secured in under two minutes, two guards outside dropped silently, throats slit before they can even reach for their guns.
I lead the way through the rusted side door, boots crunching on broken glass. The interior is cavernous, high ceilings, rusted beams, the stink of oil and old concrete. My men fan out, clearing rooms. Gunfire erupts in short bursts, Marco’s men dropping one by one.
I grab the last surviving guard by the throat, slam him against a metal support beam hard enough to make his teeth clack. Blood is already running from a split lip.
“Where is she?” My voice is low, lethal.
He chokes, eyes wide. I tighten my grip until his face turns purple.
“Last room—back left—please—”
I drag him forward like a rag doll, forcing him to lead the way. We reach the last room. The door is half-ajar. I kick it wide.
There she is.
Laurel is sitting in the center of the empty concrete space, wrists and ankles bound to a metal chair with zip ties. Her head is bowed, hair falling over her face.
I run.
I drop to my knees in front of her, hands shaking as I slice through the ties with my knife. The plastic snaps. Her wrists are raw, red rings where the ties bit in. I cradle her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks.
“Laurel, baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m so fucking sorry.”
She lifts her head slowly. Her eyes are glassy, unfocused, but when they meet mine, something flickers, relief.
“Leonid?”
“I’m here baby, I’ve got you.”
I pull her into my arms, lifting her out of the chair. She’s trembling, I hold her against me, one arm under her knees, the other cradling her back, whispering into her hair over and over.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’m here now. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”
Igor appears in the doorway, breathing hard, blood on his sleeve but none of it his.
“We’ve got Marco,” he says. “Alive. Tied up outside.”
I nod, jaw locked so tight it aches.
“Keep him breathing,” I tell him. “I want him conscious when I get there.”
Igor nods, already turning away.
I carry Laurel out of that hellhole, past the bodies. She buries her face in my neck, hands clutching my jacket.
I press my lips to her temple, voice rough against her skin.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
She’s sleeping now, curled on her side in the hospital bed. The monitors beep softly, her heart rate, her blood pressure, and the baby’s heartbeat, all steady.
The doctor just left after the latest check: she and the baby are doing fine. No lasting damage from the ordeal. Still, as a precaution, he recommends a few weeks of bed rest to give her body time to fully recover and to avoid any unnecessary stress on the pregnancy.
I almost lost her.
The thought sits like lead in my gut. I can still see her pale face when I cut the zip ties, the way her body trembled against mine as I carried her out. If I’d not put a tracker on her…
I drag a hand over my face, exhaling hard. I can’t think about it. She’s here. Breathing. That’s all that matters.
Her eyes flutter open. “Leonid?”
I’m at her side in an instant, leaning over the rail, taking her hand. “Right here, solnyshko. I’m right here.”
She blinks up at me, disoriented, voice small. “Where… where am I?”
“Hospital,” I say gently, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. “You’re safe. Everything’s okay.”
Her free hand immediately goes to her stomach, fingers splaying protectively over the swell. “The baby—”
“The doctor says you’re both fine,” I assure her quickly. “They’re keeping you overnight just to be sure, but everything’s stable.”
She exhales, a long, shaky sound of pure relief, and her shoulders sag against the pillows. “Thank God.”
I squeeze her hand. “How are you feeling?”
“My head hurts,” she murmurs, wincing as she shifts. “Everything’s… fuzzy.”
“I’ll get the doctor.” I stand, but she tightens her grip on my fingers.
“Wait.” Her voice is small. “Dmitri… is he…?”
I exhale slowly, sitting back down. “He didn’t make it.”
Her eyes fill instantly, tears welling. Her lower lip trembles. I pull her into my arms as best I can with the IV line and monitors, cradling her against my chest while she cries. I stroke her hair, until the sobs slow to hiccups.
After a long minute she pulls back slightly, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “He mentioned having a mom and sister.”
“Word has already been sent to them. I’ll be paying them a condolence visit later.”
“How will they survive without him?” More tears spill down her cheeks.
I thumb them away. “I’ll make sure they are taken care of. You need not worry solnyshko.”
She nods, and then goes silent again.
After a while, she asks, “How did you find me?”
I hesitate. Then decide there’s no point in hiding it.
“I put a tracker on you.”
She blinks. “My phone was smashed. They threw it out the window.”
“Not just your phone.” I look away for a second, then force myself to meet her gaze. “I put one in your hair clips. The little silver ones you wear every day.”
Her brows lift. “Really?”
I brace for anger, but she just… smiles.
“You’re not mad?”
She shakes her head. “Maybe a little that you didn’t tell me. But… your paranoia saved me. Saved us. So no, I’m not mad.”
“I’m deeply sorry. I swore to protect you. I failed—”
She cuts me off, hand cupping my jaw. “You didn’t fail. You saved me. Stop beating yourself up over this. I’m here. The baby’s here. That’s what matters.”
I exhale roughly, leaning into her touch. “How did I get so lucky with you?”
She smiles. “I’m the lucky one.”
I lean in, kissing her lips briefly. When I pull back, I rest my forehead against hers.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips. “Both of you.”
She sighs, eyes already drooping again. “Love you too.”
I kiss her once more—gentle, lingering—then ease her back against the pillows.
“Get some rest,” I murmur.
She nods, fingers still curled loosely in my shirt, and slips back under.