Chapter 26 - Dimitri
DIMITRI
Iwatch Alina's face as the truth sinks in. The emptiness that's haunted her eyes since she pulled the trigger on Viktor is suddenly replaced by something else.
Hope.
Desperate, terrifying hope that makes her green eyes shine with unshed tears.
"She's alive." The words come out as a whisper, like she's afraid saying them too loud will make them untrue. "Dimitri, she's alive."
I set the tablet down on my desk and pull her into my arms, feeling the way her body trembles against mine.
"We'll find her," I say, and the certainty in my voice surprises even me.
Twenty years I've spent building walls around my heart, learning to care about nothing and no one except power and survival.
Twenty years of being the ruthless Pakhan who makes calculated decisions based on strategy, not emotion.
And this woman has demolished every single one of those walls in less than a week.
The realization should terrify me. Does terrify me. But right now, watching the hope bloom in her face, feeling the way she clings to me like I'm her anchor in a storm, I can't bring myself to care about the danger of letting someone matter this much.
"Alexei." I don't raise my voice, but my sovietnik appears in the doorway within seconds.
His shoulder is properly bandaged now, the blood cleaned away, but I can see the pain in the tight lines around his mouth.
"I want every informant we have activated.
Every favor called in. Every contact pressured.
Someone knows where the Kozlovs are holding Katya, and I want that information within the hour. "
"Already on it, Pakhan." He pulls out his phone, fingers flying across the screen. "I've got teams canvassing their known properties. We're monitoring all their usual communication channels. If they so much as breathe wrong, we'll know about it."
I nod, my hand stroking Alina's back in what I hope is a soothing gesture. I'm not good at comfort. Never have been. My childhood taught me that weakness gets you beaten, that showing emotion gets you hurt. But for her, I'm trying.
Alina pulls back slightly, looking up at me with those green eyes that see too much. "Why would they take her? What do they want?"
It's a good question. One I've been asking myself since we saw the footage. The Kozlovs orchestrated the church attack with Viktor's help, tried to use the chaos to move against my territory. But Viktor's dead now, the alliance broken. What use is a sixteen-year-old girl to them?
"Leverage," I say, the word tasting bitter. "They know I have you. They know we're married. Taking Katya gives them a bargaining chip."
"Or bait." Alexei's expression is dark. "They could be trying to draw you into a trap, use the girl to lure you out where they can take you down."
I see Alina flinch at the casual way he refers to her sister as "the girl," as just another piece on the board. But that's how this world works. Everyone is a piece, a tool, a means to an end.
Everyone except her.
The thought comes unbidden, unwelcome. I push it away and focus on strategy.
My phone buzzes with an incoming message. Then another. And another. My network is responding, information flowing in from a dozen different sources. Most of it is useless, rumors and speculation. But one message makes me pause.
Kozlov lieutenant spotted at Riverside Airfield. Small plane being prepped for departure. Destination unknown.
"Alexei, mobilize everyone. We're going to Riverside Airfield."
He's already moving, barking orders into his phone. Within minutes, I hear the sound of engines starting, men assembling in the courtyard below. My soldiers, my army, ready to go to war for a sixteen-year-old girl they've never met.
Because I've ordered it. Because she matters to Alina. Because somehow, in the space of a few days, Alina has become the most important thing in my world.
I turn to find her watching me, and the look on her face makes my chest tight. It's not just hope anymore. It's something deeper, more complicated. Trust, maybe. Or the beginning of something I'm not ready to name.
"I'm coming with you," she says, and her tone makes it clear this isn't a request.
"No." The word comes out harsher than I intend. "It's too dangerous. If this is a trap, if the Kozlovs are waiting for us, I need to know you're safe."
"She's my sister." Alina's voice is steady, but I see her hands curl into fists at her sides. "I'm not sitting here while you risk your life to save her."
"You'll do exactly that." I move closer, cupping her face in my hands. "I can't focus on the mission if I'm worried about protecting you. I need you here, safe, where I know the Kozlovs can't use you against me."
She opens her mouth to argue, and I do the only thing I can think of to stop her. I kiss her, hard and desperate, pouring everything I can't say into the press of my lips against hers. She makes a small sound of surprise, then melts into me, her hands fisting in my shirt.
When I pull back, we're both breathing hard.
“Thank you.” She smiles. “But my mind is made up. I’m going with you.”
I know when I’ve been beaten, and this is one of those times. Reluctantly, I nod.
“But,” I stress, holding a finger in front of her face, “you’ll stay in the car.”
She thinks about that a second, then nods.
The convoy is ready when we reach the courtyard.
Alexei is in the lead vehicle despite his injury, because I need his tactical mind.
Boris is positioned in the second vehicle with his sniper rifle, ready to provide cover, his leg wrapped tightly against the bullet wound he’d received earlier.
The rest are soldiers I've fought beside for years, men I trust with my life.
I slide into the driver's seat of the lead SUV, my hands gripping the wheel. Alina scoots into the passenger’s seat. The engine roars to life, and we pull out of the estate in tight formation.
Riverside Airfield is on the eastern edge of the city, a small private facility used mostly by wealthy businessmen and the occasional celebrity.
The drive takes thirty minutes that feel like thirty hours.
My mind races through scenarios, contingencies, backup plans.
If Katya is there, if we can extract her before the plane takes off, this could be over tonight.
But if it's a trap, if the Kozlovs have positioned their forces to ambush us, we could be walking into a massacre.
I glance at Alina. Even though her head is to the side, staring out the window, I can still see her reflection in the glass. Her features are pinched with worry, but there’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
"Pakhan." Alexei's voice cuts through my thoughts. "We're five minutes out. What's the play?"
I force myself to focus, to become the cold, calculating Pakhan my men need. "We go in quiet. Recon first, then extraction. If they spot us, if shooting starts, priority one is getting the girl out alive. Everything else is secondary."
"And if it's a trap?"
"Then we spring it and deal with the consequences." I check my weapon, the familiar weight of the Glock reassuring in my hand. "But we're not leaving without Katya."
The airfield comes into view, a collection of hangars and a single runway surrounded by chain-link fence. Security lights illuminate the perimeter, but I can see dark patches where the coverage is weak. Entry points.
I kill the headlights and pull off the main road, the other vehicles following suit. We park in the shadow of a warehouse about two hundred yards from the airfield entrance and I remind Alina once again to stay in the car.
“I will,” she promises.
"Boris, find a position with a clear view of the runway." I'm already moving, checking my tactical vest, making sure everything is in place. "Everyone else, standard extraction formation. Alexei, you're with me."
My men disperse like shadows, moving with the practiced efficiency of soldiers who've done this a hundred times before. I watch them go, feeling the familiar pre-combat adrenaline start to pump through my veins.
This is what I'm good at. Violence. Strategy. Survival.
But as we approach the fence, as I scan the airfield for threats, I realize something has changed. I'm not just fighting for territory or power or revenge. I'm fighting for something more important.
I'm fighting for the woman waiting at home. For the sister she loves. For the family we're trying to build from the ashes of everything that's been destroyed.
The thought should make me weak, should cloud my judgment. Instead, it makes me sharper, more focused. More dangerous.
We cut through the fence and slip onto the airfield grounds. The main hangar is lit up, and I can see figures moving inside. At least six men, maybe more. And there, on the tarmac, a small private jet with its engines already running.
They're preparing to leave. We're running out of time.
I signal my men to hold position while Alexei and I move closer, using the shadows for cover. Through the hangar's open door, I can see more clearly now. Kozlov soldiers, armed and alert.
I'm about to signal the assault when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Unknown number. Every instinct screams at me not to answer, that it's a distraction, a trap. But something makes me pull it out, makes me accept the call.
Static crackles through the line. Then a voice, young and terrified and so much like Alina's it makes my chest ache.
"Please." Katya's voice is barely a whisper, choked with tears. "Please, someone help me. Alina, if you can hear this, I'm so scared. They're going to take me somewhere and I don't know what they're going to do and I just want to go home. Please, Alina, please help me."
The line goes dead.