She doesn't belong to anyone. Not to Sergei. Not to her father. Not to me.
But I will burn this city to the ground before I let anyone take her.
I turn away from her door and head back downstairs, pulling out my phone as I go.
Alexei answers on the first ring.
"I need you to trace a number," I say. "And I need the files on Howard Crane's ranch moved up. I want extraction options on my desk by morning."
"Both?"
"Both."
If Sergei wants a war, he'll get one. And when it's over, he'll understand exactly what it costs to threaten what's mine.
Chapter 9 - Bianca
Something is wrong.
I sense it before I'm fully awake, some animal instinct pulling me out of sleep and into alertness. The quality of the light is the same—gray, diffused, early morning—but the sounds are different. More footsteps on the gravel below. More voices, low and urgent. The distant rumble of engines.
I push back the covers and cross to the window, pressing my cheek against the cold glass to see the front gate.
Three black SUVs are parked in the drive, their doors hanging open. Men are unloading equipment—cases and boxes and things I can't identify from this distance. Armed men, more than I've seen before, moving with the purposeful efficiency of soldiers preparing for battle.
My stomach drops.
I dress quickly, not bothering with the careful selections I made yesterday. The first things I grab—a cream sweater, dark pants, flat shoes I can run in if necessary. My hands are steady as I pull my hair back, but my heart is racing.
Something happened. Something changed overnight while I slept in my silk-sheeted cage.
Mrs. Novak is in the hallway when I emerge, carrying fresh towels. She stops when she sees me, her expression carefully neutral.
"Good morning, Bianca. I was just coming to—"
"What's happening?"
She hesitates. A fraction of a second, but I catch it.
"Mr. Kashkin's brother has sent additional security personnel. A precautionary measure."
"Precautionary against what?"
"I'm sure Mr. Kashkin can explain—"
"Mrs. Novak." I step closer, holding her gaze. "I've spent my entire life being protected from the truth. My father told me he was a businessman. My brothers told me everything was fine. And then I ended up on an auction block because no one thought I could handle reality." My voice is harder than I intend, but I don't soften it. "I'm done being managed. What is happening?"
She studies me for a long moment. Something shifts in her expression—not quite approval, but close to it.
"I don't know the details," she says finally. "But something arrived last night. A message of some kind. Mr. Kashkin has been in his office since three in the morning."
Three in the morning. Four hours ago. While I slept, he was awake, dealing with something serious enough to bring an army to his doorstep.
"Where is his office?"
"Ground floor, east wing. But Bianca—" She catches my arm as I turn to go. "He may not want to be disturbed."
"Then he can tell me that himself."
