Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Tolya
Tolya’s Penthouse
Islam my fist down on the bar, the sound ricocheting off the walls like gunfire. I peel off my holster and toss it onto a leather couch along with my jacket.
Nico follows suit, unstrapping his gear with rough, agitated movements, letting it all hit the floor without care. The guns, the spare clips, the comms—useless right now.
We’re both seething. The kind of frustrated only men used to winning can be. We struck out. Both sites, empty. I’d been wrong and we had no more leads to follow.
"There was nothing at the river warehouse," Nico growls, pacing behind me. "No footprints. No heat signatures. Just a half-rotted floor and a busted padlock."
"Same at the railyard," I mutter, jaw clenched. "Cold. Dusty, filled with the smell of locomotives but no one there. It looked like it hadn't touched the place in months."
I move to the decanter and pour a double shot of whiskey into a glass with more force than finesse. The amber liquid sloshes up the sides, but I don’t spill a drop. I offer one to Nico. He nods grimly and catches the glass mid-air as I toss it his way.
We drink in silence. The kind that vibrates with grated remorse and unaccepted failure. Nico breaks first.
"Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. What if he’s baiting us? Letting us run ourselves in circles while he hides in plain sight."
I shrug, taking another sip. "Or maybe we’re trying to predict a man who's already lost his damn mind."
We fall quiet again, both of us looking at the walls. Eyes scanning imaginary maps there for something we’ve missed. A sliver. A clue. Anything. My hand tightens around the glass as I tip it back again, letting the burn drag through my throat like penance.
Then my phone rings. One of the few numbers only our top men have access to.
I answer it with a curt, cold voice, “Da?”
The voice on the other end is breathless, sharp with urgency. “Pakhan. We think we’ve found them. One of our lookouts spotted Yaro’s Suburban.”
“Where?” I ask, voice a low growl.
“Pulling off the gravel path near the old smelting yard off Gornaya Street. Said he saw him dragging a woman into the building. Dark hair. Looked like—”
The phone in my hand shatters and I stare at the now useless device as I slam it down, the call cut off by the damage. My other hand grips the edge of the bar hard enough to crack the wood.
Nico perks up in his seat across from me, tension written deep in the lines of his face.
“Dino just called. One of our guys who was keeping watch near the western industrial zone spotted Yaro’s Suburban,” I inform him. Then I go still.
Gornaya Street. That’s not just any warehouse. It’s that warehouse.
That’s where Yaro’s father died protecting me during my first year as Pakhan.
My mind goes back to that night. Blood. Screams. The feel of his body falling onto mine, limp and heavy after taking two rounds meant for me.
Shaking it off I bring myself back to the present.
It’s off the grid. Remote as hell. No direct access road.
Just gravel and dirt paths winding through broken fences and rusted skeletons of old shipping containers.
No road signage. No cameras. No exit once you’re inside.
My mind spins with calculations—access routes, vehicle approach, how long we’ve got.
Finally I blink clear the memories and turn to meet Nico’s inquisitive gaze.
“Where?” Nico demands, already standing.
“Gornaya Street. The old smelting plant. Your man confirmed the Suburban. Saw Yaro drag a woman inside. She’s alive,” I grind out. “For now.”
He nods, grabbing his gear from the couch, already strapping it back on. Moving with intent.
I keep speaking, voice low and lethal. “He took her to the place where his father died.”
Nico freezes. “Wait—Yaro’s father? What does he have to do with anything?”
“He was the Pakhan’s bodyguard before Yaro. He died saving my life when a gun deal went south. Took two bullets to the chest protecting me,” I pause, jaw tight. “I tried to make it right. Saw to his mother's care after his passing, even sent money to the family. But she died a few months later.”
“From what?”
I glance at him with a sad sigh. “Grief.”
Nico exhales. “So this whole time…”
“Because he blames me,” I say matter of fact.
“And now what?”
“Now he wants revenge. He’s been waiting for the right moment. I just handed it to him.”
My mind renews its previous train of thought. Spinning with calculations—access routes, vehicle approach, how long we’ve got.
“He’s going to kill her,” I say, steel hardening in my voice. “And he wants me to find her body in the same place his father died.”
Nico doesn't hesitate. “Then we have to go now.”
He moves to the bar and slides my sidearm across it to me. Grabbing his coat, already pulling out his phone and barking orders. I cock the piece, checking the chamber and then the magazine before tucking the pistol into my waistband.
“Tell your men to fall back and secure the building,” I bark. “No one approaches unless I say. This place, it’s a trap. There’s no way to reach it without being seen. He wants us to make a desperate attempt at rescue and he knows he’s got the advantage.”
“Copy that.”
I head for the door—but stop halfway.
A memory pins me in place as I look down the hallway toward our bedroom. Eva’s voice, still soft in my ears.
“Something simple. Just us.”
I grit my teeth. Dammit, she’s mine and she’s not going to die today. Not like this. She doesn't die like this.
“Nico,” I say, turning back. “That warehouse is hell to reach. One entrance. One line of sight in. We can’t sneak up on it without being spotted.”
I grab the tablet off the side table and pull up a digital map of it to show him.
“We’ll split up here,” he says. Pointing to a cluster of trees on a ridge. “I’ll take the eastern ridge there’s a rise. Could give us high ground. Maybe a clear shot.”
I nod. “I’ll circle in through the loading dock. Alone. No headlights. Silent approach.”
I nod once, eyes burning. “Make sure your men stay sharp.”
He doesn’t question me about going in alone. Just grips my forearm hard, the look in his eyes grim.
I pull my pistol out again, chambering a round and looking down the barrel out the window at the city beyond. The cold click echoing louder than thunder in my ears. After a moment I lowered it, turning to meet his gaze, voice low and final.
“Let’s go get our girl.”