Chapter Thirteen – Malachi
The aroma of the beef stroganoff wafted through the apartment, mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread. I had prepared Nika’s favorite meal, eager to spend a cozy evening with her. Rurik lounged on the couch, scrolling through his tablet as we awaited her arrival.
Minutes ticked by, and my gaze kept drifting toward the door, expecting her bright smile to appear at any moment. An uneasy feeling crept over me when the agreed-upon time came and went without a word from her.
“She’s late.” Rurik’s voice cut through the silence, his brow furrowed with concern.
I nodded, trying to push away the nagging sense of unease. “Maybe she got held up at work, or class ran late.”
Rurik shook his head. “Nika’s not one to be inconsiderate without letting us know.”
My fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass I held. He was right. Punctuality was one of Nika’s virtues. Sudden possibilities raced through my mind, each more unsettling than the last.
Valentina’s theory that Nika might be the target came to mind. Viktor had declared it made no sense for Petrosian or Terzien to target her, but my instincts were screaming now. I wish I’d listened to them and stuck by her side like Rurik and I’d wanted, but we had duties to which we must attend, and it had seemed safe enough to let her go to work and class. She was spending her nights with us, and I hadn’t imagined the Armenians would take her in broad daylight.
Without a word, I strode toward the desk. I pulled up the tracking app on my laptop, inputting Nika’s phone number. Seconds later, a blinking dot appeared on the map, unmoving in a location neither of us recognized.
Our gazes met, a silent conversation passing between us. He rose to his feet, already reaching for his sidearm. I mirrored his actions, grinding my teeth to keep from screaming. No words were necessary as we moved in sync, gathering our gear and arming ourselves to the teeth. Within minutes, we were speeding through the city streets, the powerful engine of the SUV roaring beneath us.
My knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel, my focus laser-sharp. Rurik’s attention was on his laptop, clicking rapidly on the keyboard as he accessed security feeds, scouring for any clues that might lead us to Nika’s location.
The blinking dot remained stationary, taunting us with its stillness. My mind raced, considering the possibilities. I was certain the Armenians were behind it, but what was their plan? Would they let her go once they got whatever information they could from her? They weren’t known for mercy, and the thought sent a pang through my chest.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed the accelerator harder, weaving through traffic with reckless abandon. Every second felt like an eternity, each minute increasing the chances of a worst-case scenario.
As we neared the location, Rurik’s voice cut through the tension. “I’ve got eyes on the building. Looks like an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts. I’ve texted Viktor to send reinforcements, and they should arrive about the same time as us.”
My jaw tightened, and I nodded, already formulating a plan of attack. We would go in hard and fast, leaving no room for negotiation or compromise. Nika’s safety was our only priority.
The SUV screeched to a halt when we reached our destination, and we spilled out, weapons drawn. Rurik signaled to the team of bratva soldiers pouring out of another SUV. They all looked grim but determined. With a silent nod, we advanced, moving like shadows through the night.
The warehouse had a metal fa?ade that looked rusted, and the sign on it had long since faded to be illegible. I took point, heart pounding as I approached the rusted door. Rurik flanked me.
I held up a fist, signaling the team to hold position. With a swift kick, the door flew open, revealing a cavernous space. We moved in slowly.
Moonlight filtered through the grimy windows, casting an eerie glow across the abandoned machinery and scattered debris. I scanned the room, searching for any sign of Nika or her captors.
Rurik’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “Clear left.”
“Clear right,” I said, tightening my grip on the Glock.
We pushed deeper into the warehouse, clearing each section with practiced efficiency. The air was thick with the scent of dust and neglect, indicating it hadn’t been used for a long time. I was becoming more convinced by the second that this was a diversion, and she’d never been here.
As we reached the far end of the space, my heart sank at confirmation. There, beneath a flickering fluorescent light, lay Nika’s backpack. Its contents, including her phone, were strewn across the floor. I crouched down, my fingers brushing against the soft fabric. “She was here.”
“Or they left her backpack here to throw us off.” Rurik’s words were hard to make out through his clenched jaw. “We’ll find her, Malachi. I promise you that.”
“Da.”
We regrouped with the team, who looked as uneasy as I felt. The night stretched before us, a daunting task ahead. We had to find Nika, and we had no solid leads now.
“We hit the Armenian hideouts,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. “Leave no stone unturned. We don’t rest until we have her back.”
The men nodded, and no one protested or suggested a different way. We split into teams, each taking a different target. Rurik and I headed for the heart of the Armenian territory, a seedy bar known for its criminal clientele.
The stench of stale cigarettes and cheap liquor assaulted my nostrils as we entered Ararat Tavern. Patrons turned to stare, their expressions wary and hostile. We moved through the crowd, our presence a silent threat.
I grabbed the nearest man by the collar, slamming him against the wall. “Where is she?”
He sneered, his breath reeking of oghi, an Armenian fruit vodka. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rurik’s fist connected with his jaw, the sickening crunch of bone echoing in the dingy space. The man crumpled to the floor, spitting blood. That didn’t jar his memory, so I punched him, leaving him propped against the wall before turning to the next one. We worked our way through the bar, leaving a trail of broken bodies in our wake. Each lead proved fruitless, and each dead end was more frustrating than the last.
Hours turned into a blur of violence and desperation. We raided hideouts, interrogated associates, and chased down every whisper of information. The city trembled beneath the bratva’s fury, but still, Nika remained elusive.
As dawn approached, we regrouped at one of the safehouses, our bodies battered and spirits weary. The solemnity around us spoke of everyone’s shared disgust with our failure.
I slammed my fist against the wall, the pain a welcome distraction from the ache in my chest. “We’re running out of time.”
Rurik placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. “We’ll find her, brat. We won’t stop until we do.”
I met his gaze, seeing the same determination reflected in his eyes. We had been through hell together, had faced impossible odds and emerged victorious. This would be no different.
We poured over maps and surveillance footage, searching for any clue we might have missed. The bratva’s network stretched far and wide, and we called in every favor, pulled every string. The sun rose and set, the city awakening and slumbering, but still, we searched. Sleep became a luxury we couldn’t afford. I refused to rest while she was enduring whatever imaginative cruelty Petrosian, or more likely, his second, Levon Terzian was inflicting upon her.
I should have protected her better. I should have listened to my instincts when Valentina suggested she might be leverage and focused on her instead of my duties to the bratva.
Rurik’s presence was a small comfort, a reminder that I wasn’t alone in this fight. The safehouse had become our command center, a hub of activity where information flowed in from every corner of the city. Maps and surveillance footage covered every available surface, a tapestry of clues and leads that seemed to lead nowhere.
I pored over the data, my eyes burning from lack of sleep, searching for any detail that might have slipped through the cracks. Rurik spoke into his phone, getting the latest update from one of our teams.
“Another dead end,” he said as soon as he disconnected the call, frustration evident in his tone.
Slamming my fist against the table, I let out a guttural roar, the sound echoing through the room like a primal cry of anguish. Scattered papers fluttered to the floor but I paid them no mind. They were useless for finding her.
Rurik again gripped my shoulder and I nodded. What choice was there but to keep looking? I refused to leave her to our enemy’s mercy, which was nonexistent.