44. Vladimir
Vladimir
"How the fuck did this happen?!"
I roar, my voice echoing off the walls, my rage spilling over into every corner of the room. Glass shatters as I hurl my empty whiskey tumbler at the wall, the sharp crash barely satisfying the violent fury coursing through me.
No one dares to move. Not my men. Not my advisors. Not even Konstantin, who is leaning against the far wall, nursing his own injuries, his face unreadable.
We’re back at the house—without them.
Luna is gone.
Amani is gone.
Raven is gone.
And I have no fucking idea where they are.
This wasn’t some random attack. These weren’t common street thugs or amateur gunmen looking to make a name for themselves.
These were highly trained, calculated men. They knew exactly what they were doing. They were prepared.
And their targets?
The women.
Whoever was behind this didn’t give a fuck about me, Konstantin, or Dimitri.
This wasn’t about sending a message.
This was a kidnapping.
And that realization sends a fresh wave of ice-cold terror down my spine.
I may be a ruthless, bloodstained, goddamn criminal. But the thought of Luna—moya Luna— out there, at the mercy of some unknown enemy?
It makes me want to rip my own fucking heart out.
I should have seen this coming.
Between Luna and me, we have too many fucking enemies to count.
The Bratva. The EAO. My rivals in the underground.
It could be anyone.
Dimitri is still unconscious upstairs, and doctors are working around the clock to keep him stable.
They told me he took the worst of the impact, shielding Raven when the limo flipped.
It could have been worse.
He has swelling in his brain. They put him in an induced coma to let him heal.
I should be relieved.
My fists clench so hard my shattered wrist protests with searing pain—but I don’t care. I barely feel it. I barely feel anything besides this suffocating rage. My ribs are screaming, three of them broken, every breath jagged and raw.
Konstantin’s worse—shot in the shoulder, concussed, and bruised to hell. But none of it matters. What matters is getting them back.
“Pakhan,” Konstantin finally speaks, his voice gravelly from exhaustion. He’s slouched against the wall, his expression dark.
“Whoever took them, they’re dead,” I growl, deadly calm now.
Konstantin exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No shit. But we need to find them first before you go on your little murder spree.”
I snap my head toward him, my jaw clenching so hard I feel the tendons strain. “Do you think I don’t fucking know that? You think I’m just sitting here waiting for a goddamn invitation?”
“Then we need a lead,” he retorts. “Throwing a fit isn’t going to bring them home.”
I take a step closer, my entire body vibrating with the need to hit something—to break something.
Konstantin doesn’t flinch.
Because he knows me.
He knows I won’t hit him.
But I see the exhaustion in his eyes—the same exhaustion that weighs on me like lead chains.
We failed.
For the first time in a long time, we fucking failed.
“I already sent our men out,” I say, voice tight, controlled. “Every Bratva asset in this city, every goddamn informant, every fucking rat we’ve ever had in our pocket is working on this.”
My jaw clenches as I glance at the massive map on the table, covered in red markings, possible locations, and surveillance footage.
But none of it matters if we don’t have a goddamn lead.
Konstantin observes me. “And the EAO?”
I pause, exhaling sharply.
“They’ve gone dark.”
His expression hardens. “So they don’t know?”
“They know,” I say bitterly. “But they’re not sharing their intel with us.”
A bitter laugh escapes Konstantin. “Fucking perfect.”
I grit my teeth. “They’re protecting their own. I get it. But Luna is my fucking wife. If they think for a second that I’ll sit on the sidelines while they handle this on their own?—”
I slam my fist onto the table, scattering a stack of files.
The room goes silent.
For a long moment, neither of us speak.
Then—
“We’ll find them, Vlad,” Konstantin murmurs.
I know we will.
But the real question is…
Will I find her in time?
The room is tense, thick with unspoken rage and the weight of failure hanging over all of us.
Before I can spiral any further into my thoughts, the door bursts open.
Angel strides in, dressed in all-black tactical gear. Her expression is as sharp as a blade, and her eyes are burning with determination.
“I can track them,” she says, without preamble, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Konstantin and I both turn to face her, and I immediately step forward. “What did you say?”
Angel rolls her eyes like we’re the dumbest men she’s ever had to deal with. “I said, I can track them. Isabella sent me. The rest of the EAO is regrouping and waiting on you to suit up.”
I glance at Konstantin. He exhales, rubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried that you people have a backup plan for this kind of shit.”
Angel crosses her arms, looking entirely unimpressed. “Oh, this isn’t part of the official plan.”
I narrow my eyes. “Then how the fuck?—”
Angel cuts me off with a smug smirk. “Luna was paranoid as fuck, so she planted a tracker in our ass cheeks while we were all sleeping.”
Silence.
Konstantin chokes on his breath.
I stare at her.
Angel shrugs, completely unbothered. “Yeah, yeah. Call it invasive all you want, but the fact remains—I know exactly where she is.”
I exhale sharply, raking a hand through my hair. “That crazy, sneaky little?—”
“She’s a genius,” Angel corrects. “And if she were here right now, she’d be rubbing it in my face that it worked.”
Konstantin just blinks at her. “You’re telling me that while you were asleep, Luna managed to stick something in your ass—and you didn’t wake up?”
Angel glares at him. “I was exhausted! And she’s stealthy as fuck! I obviously would have taken it out if I had known, but guess what? Now I’m glad I didn’t.”
Konstantin chuckles, shaking his head. “This is some next-level shit, even for her.”
Angel smirks. “Oh, it gets better.”
I pin her with a look. “What?”
Angel tilts her head, eyes filled with mischief. “She put one on you, too.”
Silence.
Konstantin freezes, then slowly turns toward me with a look of pure, unfiltered amusement.
A slow, grinning smirk spreads across his face.
“No fucking way,” he wheezes. “No way. Your wife chipped you? Like a fucking pet?”
I grit my teeth.
Angel grins wider, nodding. “Yup. And if she were here, she’d be having the time of her life watching you process this.”
Konstantin snorts. “Vova, my brother, how’s it feel knowing your wife tagged you like a science project?”
I pin Konstantin with a deadly glare. “Shut the fuck up.”
Angel leans in, her voice low and teasing. “So? Are you mad? Or is this just adding to your list of reasons you want to fuck her into oblivion?”
The pressure in my chest spikes.
Am I furious she did this? Yes.
Am I aroused? Also yes.
I hate that she can get away with this shit—but I’d burn down the world to have her back.
I snap, shoving past them with a growl, my coat whipping behind me. “Enough. Where. Is. She?”
The teasing dies instantly. Angel’s eyes sharpen, and her voice turns cold as steel. She flips her phone around—one blinking red dot on the map.
“Warehouse. Outskirts of the city. If we leave now, we can get to them before morning.” Her tone leaves no room for debate.
My body moves before the words finish.
I turn to the hallway and bellow, “ARMOR UP. WE MOVE IN FIVE!”
The entire house explodes into motion. Footsteps thunder above and below. Guns. Vests. Orders barked into comms.
Konstantin is already grabbing his gear. Angel turns on her heel. “You two—follow me. We’re not wasting time.”
We sprint out the front door, and I see my truck already pulled up in the driveway—black, armored, and waiting like a beast hungry for war.
We jump in, doors slamming.
I don’t care who took her. I don’t care why.
I’m getting my wife back.
And when I do? She’s got a hell of a lot of explaining to do.