“Any word from your brothers?” Viktor asked as he approached, his eyes already scanning the warehouse district for signs of surveillance or ambush.
Anka shook her head, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Nothing. Matvei’s phone goes straight to voicemail, and Adrian said he’d handle backup, but that was hours ago.”
Viktor studied her face, noting the fear she was trying to hide beneath layers of determination and fury. This was the woman who’d once jumped out of planes for fun, who’d built a successful career despite her family’s overprotective tendencies, who’d walked into an arranged marriage to protect the people she loved. She was magnificent, and he’d been a fool to risk losing her for something as hollow as revenge.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, falling into step beside her as they approached the designated warehouse.
“I go in, they release my sisters, we all walk out alive.” Anka’s tone suggested she knew how inadequate the strategy was but couldn’t think of alternatives.
“That’s not a plan, that’s a suicide mission.” Viktor caught her arm, forcing her to look at him. “These people took your sisters for a reason, Anka. They’re not going to just release them because you showed up as requested.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Her voice carried a sharp edge that indicated her patience was wearing thin. “Because I’m not leaving Raya and Sofie in there while we debate strategy.”
Before Viktor could respond, his phone buzzed with a text message that made his blood run cold. The photograph showed Raya and Sofie bound and gagged in what looked like a shipping container, fear stark in their young faces.
The accompanying message was brief:Your wife for the girls. One hour.
But it was the sender’s number that made Viktor’s vision blur with rage. He’d seen it before, had made note of it during his brief and unpleasant business relationship with Nick Barresi.
“What is it?” Anka asked, apparently reading something dangerous in his expression.
“I know who’s got your sisters.” Viktor’s voice carried the kind of deadly calm that preceded violence. “Nick Barresi. He’s trying to use them to get to you, probably as revenge for what happened at my office.”
Anka stared at him for a moment, her face cycling through confusion and growing horror as she processed the implications. “This is because of us? Because of our marriage and your business deals?”
“This is because Nick Barresi is a psychopath who feeds off other people’s pain.” Viktor pulled out his phone, already scrolling through his contacts. “And because I made the mistake of thinking I could handle him without considering the collateral damage.”
“What are you doing?” Anka asked as Viktor selected Ilya’s number.
“Calling for backup. We can’t do this alone, not against Nick and whatever men he’s brought with him.” Viktor held up a hand when Anka started to protest. “I know they said come alone, but Nick has no intention of releasing your sisters regardless of what you do. This was never about negotiation—it’s about inflicting maximum damage on everyone connected to me.”
Ilya answered on the second ring, his voice carrying the kind of alert wariness that suggested he’d been expecting trouble. “What’s wrong?”
“Nick Barresi has Anka’s sisters. Pier Seventeen, warehouse district. I need everyone you can spare, and I need them now.”
“On our way.” Ilya’s response was immediate, no questions asked, no hesitation. “Twenty minutes.”
Viktor ended the call and turned back to Anka, who was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “We wait for backup, then we go in and get your sisters.”
“Twenty minutes is too long.” Anka shook her head, her hands already moving toward her jacket pocket. “Nick could hurt them, could decide he’s tired of waiting. I’m going in now.”
“No.” Viktor stepped between her and the warehouse, his posture making it clear he was prepared to physically restrain her if necessary. “You’re not walking into that building until we have a plan that doesn’t end with all three of you dead.”
“They’re my sisters, Viktor. My responsibility.” Anka’s voice carried the kind of fierce protectiveness that made her dangerous when cornered. “I won’t let them suffer because of my choices.”
“Our choices,” Viktor corrected, his tone carrying conviction that surprised them both. “This is happening because of decisions we both made, conflicts we both participated in. Which means we handle it together, or we don’t handle it at all.”
For a moment, they stood facing each other in the shadow of the warehouse, years of love and pain and misunderstanding crackling between them like electricity. Viktor could see the moment Anka made her decision; he could read in her expression the choice to trust him, despite everything that had gone wrong between them.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked finally.
Viktor felt something loosen in his chest, a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying since the moment she’d walked out of his life. This wasn’t forgiveness, wasn’t a resolution to the problems that had driven them apart. But it was a partnership, and for now, that was enough.
“Stay close to me. Do exactly what I tell you when I tell you to do it. And trust that I’d rather die than let anything happen to you or your sisters.”
When Ilya arrived with Kostya and Fedya in tow, Viktor felt the familiar calm that came with having reliable backup in dangerous situations. His brothers moved with the kind of coordinated efficiency that came from years of handling volatile situations together, and Viktor found himself grateful for family ties that transcended personal conflicts.
“What’s the situation?” Ilya asked, his eyes already surveying the warehouse for tactical advantages.
