But as Anka drove toward the warehouse district with her phone silent and her sisters’ lives hanging in the balance, shecouldn’t shake the feeling that some choices led to places where coming back wasn’t guaranteed. The city lights blurred past her window like dying stars, and she found herself thinking about Viktor with the kind of desperate longing that suggested she might not get another chance to tell him that revenge had never mattered as much as love.
The warehouse district at night was a maze of shadows and industrial decay, a place where people went to disappear or to make others disappear. Anka parked outside the designated building and sat in her car for a moment, gathering courage she wasn’t sure she possessed.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Viktor:Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it alone.
The message suggested he somehow knew about the kidnapping, which meant Adrian had probably called him despite her instructions. Under normal circumstances, she would have been furious at the betrayal. Instead, she felt oddly comforted by the knowledge that Viktor was thinking about her safety even after she’d walked out on their marriage.
But comfort wouldn’t save Raya and Sofie, and hesitation might cost them their lives. Anka took a deep breath, checked that her small pistol was secure in her jacket pocket, and stepped into the night.
The warehouse loomed above her like a monument to urban decay, its broken windows reflecting streetlight in patterns that looked almost like watching eyes. She could see movement in the shadows near the loading dock, suggestions of human presence that made her skin crawl with awareness of her own vulnerability.
One hour to save her sisters. One hour to face whatever consequences her choices had created. One hour to prove that some things were worth risking everything to protect.
Anka walked toward the warehouse doors, each step carrying her further from safety and closer to whatever waited in the darkness ahead.
Chapter 22 - Viktor
Viktor stared at his phone for the third time in as many minutes, willing it to ring with Anka’s name on the display. The silence in his mansion had become suffocating, every empty room a reminder of what his pursuit of revenge had cost him. Three days since she’d walked out, three days of replaying their last conversation and understanding too late that Matvei had been right about everything.
The whiskey in his glass had gone warm hours ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything beyond the crushing weight of his own stupidity. He’d had everything—his wife back, the truth finally revealed, a chance to build something real with the woman he’d never stopped loving. And he’d thrown it all away for the satisfaction of watching Adrian suffer.
When his phone finally rang, Viktor’s heart lurched with desperate hope that died the moment he saw it wasn’t Anka’s number. Adrian’s name on the display made him consider ignoring the call entirely, but something about the timing felt wrong.
“What do you want?” Viktor’s voice carried exhaustion and barely contained hostility.
“Anka needs your help.” Adrian’s words were clipped, urgent in a way that made Viktor’s blood run cold. “Someone took Raya and Sofie. She’s trying to handle it alone.”
The information hit Viktor like a physical blow, instantly changing his view of the evening with brutal clarity. Anka was in danger, possibly walking into a trap, and she was facing it without backup because their marriage had become too toxic for her to trust him with her safety.
“Where is she?” Viktor was already reaching for his jacket, his keys, anything that would get him to Anka faster.
“Pier Seventeen. Warehouse district.” Adrian paused, and Viktor could hear something that might have been regret in his voice. “She called you first, Viktor. Before anyone else. That should tell you something.”
The line went dead, leaving Viktor staring at his phone with growing horror. Anka had reached out to him despite everything, had trusted him enough to ask for help when her sisters’ lives were at stake. And he’d been sitting in his study, drowning in self-pity instead of answering her call.
Viktor’s phone rang again as he was climbing into his car, and this time Anka’s name on the display made his chest constrict with relief and terror in equal measure.
“Viktor?” Her voice was tight with controlled panic, the tone of someone hanging onto composure by a thread. “I need your help.”
“I’m already on my way.” Viktor started the engine, his mind calculating routes and possibilities with the kind of focused efficiency that had kept him alive in dangerous situations. “Tell me everything.”
“Someone has Raya and Sofie. They want me to come alone to a warehouse on Pier Seventeen, and I—I tried calling Matvei and the others, but no one’s answering, and I can’t do this by myself.”
The vulnerability in her voice cut through Viktor’s chest like broken glass. This was his wife, the woman he’d promised to protect, and she was facing her worst nightmare because he’d been too consumed with revenge to be the partner she deserved.
“You’re not doing this alone,” Viktor said, his voice carrying conviction that surprised even him. “We’re going to get your sisters back, Anka. Both of them. Safe.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and Viktor could almost hear her wrestling with whether to trust him after everything that had happened between them.
“I’m scared,” she admitted finally, the words so quiet he almost missed them.
“I know. But you’re also the strongest person I’ve ever met, and we’re going to handle this together.” Viktor turned onto the highway that would take him to the warehouse district, pushing his car faster than was probably safe. “I’m ten minutes out. Don’t do anything until I get there.”
“Viktor—” Anka’s voice caught, and he could hear the tears she was trying not to shed. “I’m sorry about how things ended between us. I know you were hurting, and I should have—”
“Don’t.” Viktor’s interruption was fierce, carrying none of the anger that had defined their recent interactions. “Don’t apologize for anything. This is my fault, all of it. I let my need for revenge poison everything good in my life, and I’m the one who should be sorry.”
By the time Viktor reached Pier Seventeen, he’d pushed every personal feeling aside in favor of the cold efficiency that had kept him alive through dozens of dangerous situations. Anka was waiting by her car, her face pale but determined, and the sight of her made his chest constrict with emotions he couldn’t afford to process.
