That was my last coherent thought before the light claimed me completely.
18
IVAN
Ikept my expression neutral as I surveyed the men around the conference table. Vince Salvini sat directly across from me, his posture rigid, eyes cold and calculating. Cristo Falcone lounged beside him with deceptive casualness that didn’t fool me for a second. Matteo Salvini, Alex Falcone…Moretti, whatever the fuck last name he was going by, and Domenico Rossi, Vince Salvini’s best friend, completed their side of the table—a unified front of powerful men accustomed to getting their way.
“So let me get this straight,” Vince said, leaning forward. “Your mission was to irritate me into submission? Is that your usual MO? How’s that working out for you, Zotov?”
A ripple of chuckles spread around the table. Even Anton, seated beside me, couldn’t suppress a smile.
I ignored the jab. “My mission was to facilitate and reestablish cooperation between the Paraskia Syndicate and the Salvini Organization. The same applies to theFalcones and, by extension, the Morettis.” I nodded toward Alex, who raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment, which made him look even more threatening.
My gaze drifted to the door again. Roman should have brought Isabella by now. As soon as Grey took that phone call and excused himself, I sent him to get her. I didn’t trust Grey, not even for a minute.
At least, that’s what I told myself. The truth—which I was becoming increasingly harder to deny—was that not only didn’t I trust Grey, but I wanted her near me. In my line of sight. To know she was safe.
And where the fuck was Grey anyway? He should be the one leading this conversation, not me.
“Your grandfathers were founding members of the Paraskia Syndicate,” I continued, forcing my attention back to the meeting. “The organization was established to maintain global stability by leveraging the resources and networks of families like yours.”
“If our grandfathers were so invested in this organization,” Cristo interjected, “why the breakup? Why weren’t our fathers invited to join?”
I met his gaze head-on. “That’s something to ask Grey. But according to the files I’ve reviewed, they weren’t deemed…trustworthy enough.”
Matt snorted. “That’s diplomatic.”
“I’m not here to judge the decisions of previous generations,” I said. “I’m here to discuss the future. The Paraskia believes it is now time to renew the partnerships?—”
The door burst open, cutting me off mid-sentence. Nina stood in the doorway, her face drained of color, breathing hard as if she’d sprinted across the compound.
“They took her,” she said, the words hitting me like a physical blow. “Grey’s men. They dragged her from the pool area. We tried to stop them, but they separated us, and they were armed.” She took a shuddering breath. “We’ve got control of the situation now, thanks to Roman, but Isabella—they took her.”
Something cold and visceral gripped my chest. My body reacted before my mind could process the implications, pushing back my chair and rising to my feet in one fluid motion.
Vince’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “And where do you think you’re going, Zotov?”
“To find out what the hell is happening,” I replied, already moving toward the door.
Vince was faster, positioning himself in the doorway, his muscular frame blocking my exit. “What do you know about this?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Was this your plan all along? Lure us all here to get to Isabella?”
Cristo and Matt joined him in blocking my exit. I felt a muscle jump in my jaw as I stared them down. “Not my plan,” I said, each word precise and measured. “But if she’s hurt, he will pay.”
The raw intensity in my voice surprised even me. Vince must have heard it, too—the unfiltered promise of violence. He studied me for a beat before stepping aside.
I pushed past him, already pulling out my phone and dialing Grey. The call went straight to voicemail. I tried again with the same result. Each unanswered ring stoked the fury building inside me.
Fucker.
Anton fell into step beside me as I strode through the building. “Get me the feed,” I ordered, and he nodded, fumbling with his phone while I led the way.
We bypassed the security center, a small, windowless room filled with monitors showing feeds from throughout the compound. Everything inside me screamed that I didn’t have the time or luxury to stop.
But pulling up the feed would be faster here.
I shouldered past the technician, scanned the screens until I found what I was looking for—footage from the pool area.
“Pull up the last hour,” I commanded.
