Chapter 16 – Lukyan
I’m still in the library, a heavy stack of historical texts open on the table in front of me, when the doors burst open. Ben walks in. The second I look at his face, my chest tightens. He looks completely forlorn, the color drained from his skin.
“Boss,” Ben says, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his words. “Sofia’s car was just ambushed on the way back from downtown. She’s been kidnapped.”
The controlled, logical structure I have spent my entire life maintaining fractures instantly. The world around me blurs into a red haze, replaced by a sharp, lethal, and focused urgency.
Every calculating thought about ciphers, codes, and Creed’s secrets vanishes from my mind.
All I can think about—the only thing that matters now—is getting her back.
No matter what. No matter how much blood I have to spill, or how many people have to die to make it happen, I will tear this city apart brick by brick until she is back in my arms.
“What information do we have on the attackers?” I demand, my voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm, dead register.
“One of the guards with Sofia managed to send a quick photo of the car’s plate number right as the ambush started,” Ben answers, his hands gripping his weapon tightly. “But that’s all we got. They’re both dead, Boss.”
I nod once, the cold fury settling deep into my bones. “To the office. We have to track that car right now.”
Ben nods grimly and follows a step behind me as I sprint down the hall, ready to wage an absolute war for my wife.
Back in the office, Ben works faster and harder than he ever has in his life.
The frantic clacking of his keyboard echoes through the tense silence of the room.
He can easily tell what this means to me; he can see the absolute desperation rolling off me in waves, the terrifying need to bring Sofia back completely unharmed.
It takes him thirty agonizing minutes to fully pull up everything we need on that plate number. The second a name and address flash onto the monitor, I lean over his shoulder, my eyes boring into the screen. We find the registered owner of the car.
I turn to Ben, my voice a deadly, low hiss.
“Find him. If he’s involved in this, I need to know exactly where they’re taking her, and then I want him dead. You have under one hour to get me those coordinates, Ben, or you’ll be dead meat yourself!”
He nods sharply, recognizing that I am past the point of reason, and hurries out of the office to mobilize our heavy hit squads.
The second the door slams shut, I start to pace the length of the room like a wounded tiger. My muscles are wound so tight they ache, my body physically incapable of resting or staying still for even a single second. Every tick of the clock on the wall feels like a bullet to my chest.
I storm over to the private bar in the corner and grab a bottle of high-proof Russian vodka.
I don’t even bother pouring it into a glass.
I rip the cap off and drink straight from the bottle, gulping down the burning liquid.
It sets my throat and stomach on fire, and I welcome the pain.
I need it to drown out the terrifying image of Sofia bleeding in the back of some stranger’s car.
I slam the bottle down onto the counter, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
When I find out who took Sofia, death will be a mercy. They’re going to regret ever being born.
Almost an hour of pure, agonizing torture passes before the phone on my desk finally rings. I snatch it up before the first ring can even finish.
“Speak,” I bark into the receiver.
“We got him, Boss,” Ben’s voice comes through, out of breath but triumphant. “The car owner talked. We have a new address. It’s an abandoned warehouse right outside town.”
“Is she there?” My grip tightens on the phone so hard the plastic cracks.
“He claims that’s where the drop-off point is,” Ben says. “The main strike team and I are already headed there now. We’ll set up a perimeter and wait for your command.”
“Do not move until I get there,” I command, slamming the phone down.
I fly down the grand stairs, my coat billowing behind me, and I’m in the driver’s seat of my sports car in minutes. The engine roars to life like a beast waking up, and I tear down the estate driveway, scattering gravel in my wake.
I drive like an absolute madman, weaving violently through lanes and forcing other cars off the road.
Since it’s still the middle of the fucking afternoon, I’m honestly surprised I don’t get stopped by the cops or slammed with dozens of speeding tickets.
But right now, a police chase would just be a minor inconvenience.
Nothing is stopping me from getting to my wife.
Within twenty minutes, I see the rusted, corrugated metal roof of the warehouse looming in the distance. I pull my car into the tree line where Ben and a dozen of my heavily armed men are waiting in black SUVs.
I kill the engine, step out, and rack the slide of my tactical rifle. Ben jogs up to me, quickly handing me a vest and pointing out the building’s entry points.
“There are guards at the front and side doors,” Ben whispers, his eyes scanning the perimeter. “We don’t know exactly how many are inside.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, my voice devoid of any humanity. I look at my men, their faces grim under their tactical masks. “We go in fast; we go in loud. Anyone holding a weapon dies instantly. Secure Sofia first; kill the rest later.”
They all nod sharply. After I give the final hand signal, we break cover and storm the warehouse, breaching the side doors with a deafening crash as we bring absolute hell to whoever dared to touch what is mine.
We have the ultimate advantage of absolute surprise on our side, and we take ruthless advantage of it.
These bastards had no idea we were coming.
The air instantly explodes with the deafening roar of gunfire as my men open fire violently, dropping the warehouse guards before they can even raise their weapons.
While my strike team holds down the main floor and pins the remaining syndicate scum in place, I push my way directly through the bloody fray, my eyes scanning the shadows in search of Sofia.
I tear toward the back of the massive room, my rifle raised. Suddenly, a sharp, blinding pain explodes against the side of my head.
I freeze for a fraction of a second, white-hot agony blossoming in my skull as my vision blurs. I force my eyes to focus and spin around just in time to see one of the kidnappers swinging a heavy wooden baseball bat down toward my face a second time.
I throw my arm up, blocking the blow with my elbow. I completely ignore the agonizing ache as the wood cracks violently against my forearm bones, and I charge into him like a freight train.
Before he can recover, I slam him against a concrete pillar, grabbing him by the throat with my good hand. In one swift, fluid motion, I snatch his other arm and twist it so far up his back that a loud, sickening snap echoes through the air.
The bastard howls in pure pain, his knees buckling under my grip.
“I will break every single bone in your other hand if you don’t tell me where Sofia is right fucking now,” I growl into his ear, my voice vibrating with lethal intent.
“The basement!” he gasps out, choking as tears of pain stream down his face. “She’s down in the basement!”
“Take me there,” I command, my tone cold enough to freeze water.
I keep my iron grip clamped tightly on his throat, using his broken, useless arm to shove him forward like a human shield as he stumbles toward the heavy iron door leading down into the dark basement.
At the bottom of the stairs, a single flickering bulb illuminates the room, and there she is.
I find Sofia strapped and tied tightly to a wooden chair.
Her blue eyes are wide and round with pure terror, but the exact second she spots me, the fear instantly evaporates from her face, replaced by absolute, overwhelming relief.
Seeing that look—realizing that in the middle of this absolute hell, she trusts me completely to save her—sends a sharp, primal jolt of desire straight to my cock. She’s mine, and she knows it.
The kidnapper groans on the floor, trying to crawl away. Without even looking down at him, I step on his back, reach down, and snap his neck with a swift, brutal twist. I don’t give him a single glance as his body crumples completely lifeless against the concrete.
I drop to my knees in front of Sofia, yanking the rough ropes off her body and throwing them aside. I lift her to her feet, my hands flying over her arms, her shoulders, and her face, frantically checking every inch of her to make sure there are no injuries.
She lets out a breathless, trembling chuckle, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she leans into my touch. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers, her voice shaking. “I was so scared, Lukyan.”
“I’ll never let this happen again,” I vow, my voice thick with a dark, protective rage. “Never.”
She offers me a small, fragile smile and nods.
Before she can take another step on her shaky legs, I scoop her up, lifting her securely into my arms. I hold her tightly against my chest, shielding her face against my neck as I carry her back up the stairs and into the main warehouse.
I have absolutely no intention of letting her go, not even when I step past the bodies and find my men clearing the room.
Ben wipes blood from his tactical vest as I approach. “Status?” I bark.
“The area is secure, Boss,” Ben reports, looking at Sofia to make sure she’s intact.
“Did you keep one of them alive for questioning?”
Ben’s expression darkens. “We had one pinned. I kept him breathing. But the second I asked him who put out the contract, the bastard grabbed the nearest dropped weapon and shot himself straight in the head. Didn’t even hesitate.”
I narrow my eyes as a cold chill settles over the fury in my chest. To commit suicide rather than risk speaking means only one thing. Whoever sent these men on this errand must be incredibly powerful, a shadow so terrifying that death by one’s own hand is considered the easier way out.
The sheer audacity of this attack confirms what I’ve been trying to deny: the situation is far from contained. Sofia is at the absolute center of something much larger and much deadlier than a simple turf war.
But as I look down at her buried against my chest, her fingers clutching my shirt for dear life, it solidifies the one truth I have been actively avoiding acknowledging. She’s no longer just a chess piece in my plan. She’s no longer just Creed’s daughter or a means to an end.
Losing her isn’t an acceptable outcome. I’ll burn the entire world to ash before I let anyone take her from me again.