My hand flexed uselessly behind my back, wanting to touch my stomach. The baby. Our baby. The tiny life that had no idea what kind of world it was being born into, what kind of danger it was already in.
I'll protect you, I promised silently.Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do.
I didn't know how I'd keep that promise. Didn't know what Pankratov wanted, what he'd do to me, how long I'd be able to survive.
But I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Vasily would come for me.
He would burn the world down to find me. Would kill anyone who stood in his way. Would stop at nothing until I was back in his arms.
I just had to stay alive until he did.
The boat cut through the dark water, carrying me toward an unknown shore. I closed my eyes and thought of green eyes and rough hands and a voice that called me little dove.
And for the first time since Vasily Chernov had kidnapped me from my life, I prayed.
Chapter 20 - Vasily
The smoke was visible from twenty miles out.
I stood at the helicopter's open door, gripping the frame hard enough to turn my knuckles white, and watched the black column rise against the evening sky. The pilot was pushing the aircraft as fast as it could go, but it wasn't fast enough. Nothing would be fast enough.
The island materialized from the haze—the familiar shape of the cliffs, the green hills, the sprawling estate that had been my sanctuary. Except now flames licked from shattered windows, and the gardens were littered with bodies, and everything I'd built to protect her had failed.
"Land on the south lawn," I ordered. "Away from the fires."
The helicopter touched down, and I was out before the skids had fully settled. The air smelled of smoke and gunpowder and blood—the familiar scent of war, transplanted to the one place I'd believed was safe.
I ran toward the house, my gun drawn, scanning for threats. Bodies everywhere—my men in their dark suits, Pankratov's soldiers in tactical gear. The battle had been brutal, close-quarters, room to room. Whatever else had happened, my people had fought hard.
But they'd lost.
"Gabrielle!" Her name tore from my throat, raw and desperate. "GABRIELLE!"
No answer. Just the crackle of flames and the distant crash of waves.
I pushed through the shattered front door, stepping over a dead Armenian with half his skull missing. The foyer was destroyed—the chandelier crashed to the floor, the marble cracked, paintings torn from walls. I moved through the wreckage, checking every room, every corner, every shadow.
Empty. All of it empty.
"Boss!"
The voice came from the east wing. I followed it, my heart hammering, and found Kirill slumped against a wall near the stairs to the safe room.
He looked like death. Blood soaked his shirt from wounds I couldn't count. His face was pale, his breathing shallow. But his eyes were open, and when he saw me, something like relief flickered in them.
"Kirill." I dropped to my knees beside him, pressing my hands against the worst of the bleeding. "Where is she?"
"They took her." The words came out wet, bubbling. Punctured lung, maybe. "Boat. Southeast. Maybe... maybe an hour ago."
"How many?"
"Eight. Ten." He coughed, and blood flecked his lips. "I tried, boss. We all tried. There were too many. They knew everything—patrol routes, blind spots, the safe room. They knew everything."
Lucas. Even dead, his betrayal was still destroying me.
"The woman—Yelena—she hid her. Bought time." Kirill's eyes were losing focus. "Mrs. Chernov fought. Didn't go easy. Made them work for it."
