I pick up her phone, checking the recent calls. Nothing unusual. No messages that might give me a clue about where she is or what happened.
"Dimitri!" Borge's voice echoes from downstairs. "You need to see this!"
I run back down, taking the stairs three at a time. Borge is in Viktor's study, and when I enter, I see what he's found. The desk drawers are open, papers scattered across the surface. And there, in the center of the desk, is a folder with the Kozlov family crest on it.
I flip it open, scanning the documents inside. Financial records. Communications. Proof of everything Yuri told me and more. Viktor's signature on agreements to betray the Morozov family. Plans for the church attack. Payments from the Kozlovs.
Alina found this. She discovered her father's betrayal, and he caught her.
The rage that floods through me is so intense I have to grip the edge of the desk to keep from putting my fist through the wall. Viktor took her. His own daughter. Because she learned the truth, because she became a liability.
For the first time in twenty years, I feel completely powerless.
13
ALINA
Darkness.
That's the first thing I'm aware of. Complete, suffocating darkness that presses against my eyelids like a physical weight. My head throbs with a pain so intense it makes my stomach roll, and there's a chemical taste in my mouth that makes me want to gag.
I try to move my hands to touch my aching head, but they won't respond. Something cuts into my wrists, plastic biting into skin.
Zip ties. I'm bound.
Panic floods through me, sharp and immediate, cutting through the fog in my brain. I force my eyes open, but the darkness remains. Not complete darkness, I realize as my vision adjusts. I'm in some kind of vehicle. A van, maybe, based on the way it's moving, the rumble of the engine beneath me.
I'm lying on my side on a hard metal floor, my cheek pressed against cold steel. Every bump in the road sends fresh waves ofpain through my skull. My mouth is dry, my tongue feels thick, and when I try to swallow, my throat burns.
What happened?
I search my fragmented memories, trying to piece together how I got here. I was at my father's house. In his study. I'd found the folder, the documents proving his betrayal. The communications with the Kozlov family. The plans for the church attack.
And then the door opened.
My father's face flashes through my mind. The way his expression transformed when he saw me with the evidence of his crimes. The cold calculation in his eyes as he moved toward me. I'd backed away, my hand going to the pendant at my throat, pressing the center stone. The panic button Dimitri gave me.
Did the signal go through? Does Dimitri know I'm in trouble?
I remember my father's hand clamping over my mouth, cutting off my scream. The sharp, chemical smell of something pressed against my face.Chloroform, my brain supplies. His voice in my ear, almost apologetic.
"I'm sorry, Alina. But you've left me no choice."
Then nothing. Just darkness and the sensation of falling.
Voices filter through my consciousness, speaking Russian in low tones. Male voices, rough and unfamiliar. Not my father's men. These are strangers.
"How much longer?" one of them asks.
"Twenty minutes, maybe less," another responds. "The cabin's remote. No one will hear anything."
Hear what?The question sends ice through my veins.
I force myself to stay still, to keep my breathing even despite the terror clawing at my chest. If they think I'm still unconscious, maybe I can learn something. Maybe I can figure out where they're taking me, who they are, and what they want.
"Kozlov's going to be pissed we had to move so fast," a third voice says. "He wanted more time to set up."
Kozlov. The name confirms what I already suspected. These aren't my father's men. They're soldiers from the Kozlov family, the rivals who helped orchestrate the church attack. The ones who wanted Dimitri dead.
