He gave it to me. I punched it into navigation. Twenty-three minutes if I obeyed traffic laws.
I'd make it in fifteen.
"Get Nikolai," I said. "Full assault team. Every man we have."
"Already done. They're mobilizing."
"Tell them to hurry." My eyes stayed on the road, but my mind was in that van, in that clinic, with Maya strapped to a table while someone decided which of her organs to harvest first. "If they cut her before I get there, I'm killing everyone in the building. And then I'm killing whoever sent them."
The line stayed open. Maks didn't argue. He'd known me long enough to recognize when words were pointless.
I drove toward Queens, toward Brand, toward the woman I loved, and let the monster take the wheel.
Thestagingpointwasan abandoned warehouse six blocks from the target—close enough to reach fast, far enough that our vehicles wouldn't spook Brand's security. I arrived first, which meant standing in the dark for eight minutes while my skin crawled and my mind calculated every terrible possibility.
The destination made my stomach turn: a private wellness clinic in an industrial area of Queens. Legitimate front that processed wealthy clients during the day—discreet procedures, no questions asked, cash-only clientele. At night, it processed something else entirely.
Although Brand had been operating out of the Brighton Beach Medical Center, clearly the more delicate operations happened her.This was the place where people became inventory.
Maya had been in their hands for almost two hours now.
I pushed the thought down. Couldn't afford it. Couldn't let the images in—Maya on a table, scalpel opening her skin, gloved hands reaching inside to extract what made her alive.The monster howled in my chest, demanding blood, demanding violence, demanding I stop standing in this fucking warehouse and go get her.
Headlights cut through the darkness. Vehicles arriving—SUVs in formation, the particular configuration our people used for assault operations. Nikolai's convoy.
We were a few minutes away from the target, but we had to prepare out of sight. The plan was essential.
My brother stepped out of the lead vehicle, already in tactical gear. Behind him, men emerged from the other SUVs. Twelve of our best. Body armor, assault rifles, the kind of firepower that could start a small war.
Nikolai's eyes found mine across the warehouse floor. Whatever he saw there made him change direction, walking toward me instead of the tactical table where someone was already spreading building schematics.
"She's alive," he said. No preamble. No softening. "If they wanted her dead, they would have done it in the street like the kid. They want her intact."
"Intact means awake while they cut." The words tasted like acid. "Intact means she feels everything."
"She's alive," he repeated. "Focus on that."
He was right. I knew he was right. But knowing and feeling were different animals, and the feeling was screaming at me to move, to run, to tear through walls with my bare hands until I found her.
The tactical briefing started. Someone—Dmitry, I registered dimly—was walking through the building layout. Three floors. Basement where the surgical suites were located. Armed guards at every entrance. Security system that Maks had already compromised. Four entry points, simultaneous breach, standard protocol for facility extraction.
I heard maybe half of it.
All I could think about was the timeline. Every minute they spent planning was a minute Brand's people could be prepping Maya. Minute by minute, second by second, the window for saving her intact was closing.
"We go now," I said, cutting through Dmitry's explanation of sightlines. "Every minute we plan is a minute they have to cut her open."
The warehouse went quiet. Twelve soldiers, plus Nikolai and Maks, all looking at me. Looking at the Besharov enforcer who never interrupted tactical briefings, who understood that rushing got people killed.
"Kostya—" Dmitry started.
"Now." I met his eyes, and whatever he saw there made him step back. "We know the layout. We know the entry points. We know they have guards. That's enough."
Nikolai studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded once, decision made.
"Kostya takes point on the surgical suite," he announced to the room. "Primary objective is Maya's extraction. Secondary objective is capturing Brand alive for questioning. Everything else—" He looked around at the assembled soldiers. "Everything else dies."
No arguments. No questions. These men had worked with me for years. Had seen what I was capable of when someone threatened mine.
