Chapter 35
MAKSIM
Ipush through the reinforced door, the heavy lock clicking shut behind me, and take the stairs two at a time. My boots strike the metal steps in sharp, impatient beats, echoing off the narrow stairwell like a war drum. The closer I get to the main floor, the tighter the coil in my chest winds.
When I reach it, the air is already heavy and choking. All four of my most trusted, aside from Lev, sit around the scarred table. Four sets of eyes snap up to meet mine.
“Talk,” I snap.
Roman straightens immediately, shoulders pulled back.
His normally cool exterior is rigid with unspoken tension.
“It’s been confirmed that Mikhail landed two hours ago in the States.
He came through Newark under a forged identity.
Immigration missed it, but Matvey traced the passport’s trail when his network alerted him. ”
My palm curls into a fist before I can stop it, nails biting into flesh. A curse hisses from between my teeth, low and venomous. “Where is he now?”
“We’re still tracking his movements,” Matvey says quickly, pushing a laptop toward me.
His eyes are red-rimmed from hours without sleep.
None of it slows him. His focus is sharp and relentless.
“He’s not alone. Two men came with him, both armed.
They rented vehicles, a black sedan and a white van.
Last I caught them on CCTV, they were headed this way. ”
My gaze narrows on the blurred frame frozen on his screen. The sedan is dark, anonymous, yet the bodies inside it are anything but. “We need to intercept before he reaches here.”
“We’re already on it,” Katya confirms. She’s armed even here, one hand resting on the Glock at her side as though expecting him to walk through the door any second.
Before I can respond, a shrill alarm tears through the room.
Matvey bolts upright from his corner of the table and moves to where a wall of monitors is pushed back against one of the walls. His fingers fly over the keyboard, pulling up the alert, data scrolling too fast for anyone but him to decipher.
“Pakhan, your car…”
My heart stutters in my chest. “What about it?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
His mouse jerks, pulling up window after window, screen after screen.
Panels of live diagnostics flicker in rapid succession, casting his face in a strobe of blue and white light.
Each flash paints his glasses, and behind the reflection, I see it—his eyes widening, horror setting in before his mouth can even form the words.
“The system flagged an impact alert. The onboard sensors in your car went off with a crash detection. The vehicle’s been—”
I don’t let him finish. I’m already moving, the legs of my chair shrieking against the floor as I shove back and rise.
“Where?” I snarl.
“It’s not far. It’s—”
I slam a hand down on the table, hard enough to rattle the contents on top of it. “Pull it up! Location, feed, everything!”
Matvey doesn’t flinch. He’s too used to the monster in me by now, but his throat bobs as he swallows, his fingers blurring across the keys. “Working on it.”
“Now, Matvey!” I roar, the sound ragged, breaking through the steel veneer I usually wear like armor. Even Roman and Katya freeze.
Matvey obeys, as fast as his hands will go. A final keystroke, and the map appears onto the largest monitor. A red dot blinks, steady and menacing, a pulse that might as well be Ivy’s heartbeat.
“Main Street,” Matvey rasps. His voice is hoarse, weighed with what he knows I’ll hear next. “Near the school. Both front and rear sensors triggered. Double impact.”
I’m out the door, my body acting on instinct, a beast ripped loose from its cage. My boots hammer, pounding toward the stairs. My breath comes harsh and jagged, chest tight as if the walls themselves around me are trying to crush me.
I shove the reinforced door wide and take the steps two at a time, fury and fear tangling until they’re indistinguishable. My people shout behind me, Andrey calling my name as he follows, but none of it registers.
All I hear is the shriek of that alert.
All I see is that pulsing red dot.
All I know is that Ivy and Leo were in that car. I sent them home in that car.
It takes me less than ten minutes to run to the crash site.
My car is being winched up onto the bed of a tow truck, its once-pristine lines broken and twisted.
Pieces of the frame glint across the asphalt like shrapnel, headlights shattered into glittering fragments scattered all over the pavement.
The acrid stench of leaking coolant and burnt rubber hangs heavy in the air, sharp enough to sting the back of my throat.
A black sedan sits mangled only yards away, shoved up halfway onto the sidewalk.
Its front end is crumpled into a grotesque mess of steel and glass, the hood folded like paper, smoke curling faintly from the engine block.
Both airbags are deployed, pale fabric sagging like deflated lungs, still dusted with that strange chemical powder that never quite fades from the air.
The driver’s door hangs open, whoever was inside now long gone.
Police have already arrived, their cruisers cutting the street in two, red and blue lights strobing off the windows of nearby buildings. Curious bystanders cluster on the corners with raised phones they can’t resist raising to record.
My breath is punching out of me hard as I slow, stopping close to one of the clusters of officers. “Where… there was a… a woman and child…”
Two of them turn to me. “Excuse me, sir. You need to back up. This is an active crime scene.”
My hands fist at my sides, seconds away from swinging at him just out of pure frustration. “The woman and child… where are they?”
“You know them?”
I’m cut off by the shrill, incongruous trill of my phone singing in my pocket. The sound cleaves straight through the chaos around me. For one strange second, everything else dulls. I should let it ring. I should crush the damn thing in my hand.
I don’t know why I reach for it. Reflex, maybe. Desperation, certainly. My hand shoves into my pocket like it has a will of its own. The screen flares bright at me, Unknown Number.
I swipe and press it to my ear.
“I see you’re having a bit of a rough evening.”
The voice, while unfamiliar, has the same cadence to a man I once knew. A man who once thought he could take over my Bratva and reign supreme without ever accounting for the damage that would come from that one, singular decision.
“Mikhail.”
“Always a pleasure,” he drawls, a mockery of civility.
“Where the fuck are they?”
“Oh, you mean your wife and son? Safe. For now. Though your wife’s rather loud when she screams. You might want to teach her some manners.”
I see red. My grip on the phone is so tight it creaks. “If you touch either of them, I will skin you alive.”
He laughs, a hollow, soulless sound, too calm for the storm raging within me. “You always were theatrical, Maksim. Always with the grand threats. My father used to poke fun at you for it while you weren’t around. Relax. They’re fine. For now. But you know how quickly that can change.”
“What do you want?” I grit out.
“You already know the answer to that.”
The silence stretches. I can hear the faint hum of an engine on his end, maybe a door slamming in the distance. He wants me to hear those sounds, to imagine where they are, what’s happening to them.
“You want them back?” he purrs. “Hand over the Bratva to me. You’ve held the throne long enough. It’s my turn.”
“You’re insane if you think I’ll believe for a second that giving you my empire guarantees their safety,” I bite back.
His tone darkens, a cruel mockery of sympathy. “Oh, Maksim. Guarantees are for honest men. And we both know neither of us qualifies for that title. But the offer still stands. You have twenty-four hours to make your choice. The Bratva, or your family.”
The line clicks dead before I can respond.
My hand lowers from my face, my phone falling uselessly at my side. I stand in the middle of flashing lights and chaos, my eyes burning so badly I’m forced to blink them a few times to clear my vision.
Twenty-four hours.
That’s no time at all.
For the first time in my life, I feel something dangerously close to helplessness.