The question should have stung, but I couldn’t summon any defensive reaction. Every part of me was focused on Shorty, on what Grey or Moretti might be doing to her right now.
“We can discuss my failures later,” I said instead. “Right now, all that matters is getting to Isabella and Cara,” I added with absolute conviction as I strapped myself in.
Hawk and Birdie exchanged a knowing look that I recognized but couldn’t care less about. Let them know. Let the whole world know.
Isabella was mine, and I would tear apart anyone who tried to keep her from me.
“So the infamously opportunistic Ivan Zotov finally found someone worth risking everything for,” Hawk mused as the helicopter lifted off, fighting against the storm winds. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Makes two of us,” I muttered, checking the weapon Anton had handed me on the way out.
The helicopters rose above the compound, banking sharply to head out to sea. Through the rain-streaked windows, I could make out the figures of the remaining Salvinis and my siblings watching us depart. Nina’s face was turned up toward us, worry evident even from this distance. I made a silent promise to bring everyone home safely.
Rain pelted the windshield as we headed toward open water, the helicopter fighting against gusts that threatened to knock us off course. Hawk’s hands were steady on the controls, his focus absolute as he navigated through the worst of the storm.
“Any other pilot wouldn’t leave the ground in these conditions,” I said.
“Good thing you’ve got me, then,” Hawk replied without taking his eyes off the instruments.
Birdie pulled up satellite tracking on her tablet. “Yacht is still stationary. Boats are almost there.” She flipped through thermal imaging. “I count at least fifteen heat signatures on deck. More below, probably.” She conveyed the information to the other chopper.
I nodded, absorbing the information. Did they have a surveillance drone up in these conditions? Birdie and Hawk really were something else. No wonder RaptorSecurity—Hawk’s company—was unmatched in its field of operations.
The odds weren’t great, but I’d faced worse. I checked the back of the helicopter with mechanical precision, my mind racing. It would be a miracle to nail the landing on the yacht, especially in this weather.
I found a rope and began attaching it to the helicopter’s safety harness. I was prepared to rope down to the yacht if necessary—whatever it took to reach Isabella.
“We’re not going to be able to touch down,” Hawk confirmed, reading my thoughts. “Too much wind, too small a landing zone. You’re going to have to drop.”
“Aye,” I said.
Birdie turned around and eyed me. “You’ve done this before, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she watched me prepare.
“Not in conditions like this,” I admitted, securing the carabiners. “But there’s a first time for everything.”
“If you die doing something stupid, I’m not explaining it to your girl,” Hawk warned.
The thought of Shorty waiting for an explanation that would never come struck me with unexpected force. I allowed myself one moment of pure fear—not for myself but for her. For what might happen if I failed. I looked out of the windows, trying to locate the boats, unsuccessfully. We were too close to the surface to see much of anything apart from the churning sea.
I should’ve told her I love her. Should’ve never kept my distance.
The regret was a physical ache in my chest. Those moments I’d held back, when I’d kept my distance even though what I’d wanted was to pull her close. What if I never got the chance to make it right?
“If something goes wrong,” I told Birdie and Hawk, my voice steady despite the emotion threatening to choke me, “tell her she’s the strongest and most amazing woman I’ve ever known and that it was a privilege to meet her. Tell her I loved her.”
Birdie’s normally sardonic expression softened slightly. “Tell her yourself, Zotov. We’re almost there.”
I looked outside and caught my first glimpse of the yacht—a massive white vessel riding the waves like a fortress. The first of the two small speedboats was just pulling alongside it. From this distance, I couldn’t make out any figures moving on deck.Was Isabella on this boat?
A cold, focused calm settled over me. This was what I was made for. This moment. This mission. This woman.
I tried to assess the situation in my head. We’d flown in a curve, and I just hoped the second helicopter would create enough of a distraction on the port side while we approached from starboard. I would drop first, secure a position, then provide cover for Cristo and Anton, eliminating any threat, then get Isabella and Cara and be out of there.
That was the plan.
“Thirty seconds out,” Hawk announced, banking the helicopter to approach from behind. “Get ready.”
I positioned myself at the open door, rain and wind whipping at me as I secured the rope. The yacht grew largerthrough the mist, its white hull rising and falling on massive waves. The storm would provide some cover, but they’d hear the helicopters any moment now.
