I think about the last thing she said to me:Be safe.I think about the disappointment in her eyes, the way I pushed her away instead of pulling her closer. How I confirmed everything she feared about me.
I think about Katya, about finding her too late, about the blood and the silence and the way my world ended in that moment.
I can't lose Mara. I can't. I won't survive it.
"Ilya." Kazimir's voice is tight. "We're two minutes out."
I don't respond. I'm checking my gun, preparing for whatever we're about to find. Preparing for war.
The penthouse building comes into view, and everything looks normal from the outside. No signs of disturbance, no police, no obvious chaos. We screech to a stop, and I'm out of the car before it's fully stopped, running for the entrance. The doorman is slumped in his chair, and when I check his pulse, I find nothing.
Dead.
The elevator ride up is the longest of my life. Kazimir and my men are with me, weapons drawn, but all I can think about is Mara.Please let her be alive. Please let me be wrong. Please, please, please.
The elevator doors open, and the smell hits me first. Blood and gunpowder and death.
The penthouse door is ajar.
I push it open, and the scene that greets me is a nightmare turned into brutal reality.
There are bodies everywhere, signs of a fight. Bullet holes riddling the walls, blood splashed over surfaces. My men, Dmitri and his team, are scattered throughout the entryway and living room, along with a few men I don’t recognize who must be Sergei’s. My team put up a fight, but it wasn’t enough.
A vicious voice in the back of my head whispers:Good. If any of them had failed to protect Mara and survived, I’d have killed them myself.
At least they died trying to save her.
Now it’s my turn to do the same.
"Mara!" I shout, my voice raw. "Mara!"
There’s nothing but silence.
I move through the penthouse like a man possessed, checking every room, every corner, every possible hiding place where she might be tucked away, hiding from the men who came from her. The bedroom is empty, bed made, her book still on the nightstand. The bathroom is empty. The library is, too, as is my office.
She's not here.
“Ilya!” Kazimir shouts my name from the living room, and I run back in to find him standing near the sofa.
In his hand is a black rose, and a note.
I snatch the note from him with shaking hands, eyes racing over the scrap of paper.
You came into my territory without asking, Sorokov. So I’ve taken the reason you’re here at all. Let's see if you're smart enough to get her back.
The rose falls from my fingers. I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't do anything but stand there, staring at the note, at the bodies, at the empty space where Mara should be.
This is my fault. I left her here. I thought six men would be enough. I thought I could handle Sergei and keep her safe at the same time.
I thought I was in control.
"Ilya." Kazimir's hand on my shoulder. "We'll find her. We'll get her back."
But I barely hear him. All I can think about is Katya, how I was too late then, how I failed to protect someone I cared about.
It's happening again. The same nightmare, the same failure, the same devastating loss.
I sink to my knees in the middle of the penthouse, surrounded by death and silence, and for the first time since I was sixteen years old, I feel the control I've built my entire life around shatter into pieces.
