"We'll find them,” Robbie says, doing his best to sound hopeful. “We have to."
But Alexander shakes his head. "No one leave the apartment. You stay locked down. I'll make calls."
The penthouse feels smaller now, the city view mocking.
What if my Daddy is really dead?
I bury my face in Goldie, tears coming hot and fast.
I want to cry, scream, pound my fists on the floor.
I want my Daddy now more than ever. But right now I don’t know if I’ll ever see him alive again…
Chapter 20
Viktor
EARLIER THAT MORNING…
The city's lights fade in the rearview mirror as I grip the steering wheel, the engine's low growl the only sound breaking the night's silence.
Ivan sits shotgun, relaxed but alert, his eyes flicking between the side mirror and the road ahead. Alexander's SUV leads us by a hundred yards, taillights steady red beacons in the dark.
We're heading to the meeting point outside the city—neutral ground, far enough from downtown to avoid prying eyes, close enough to the freeway or any number of back roads for quick exits if needed. The meet with the generals and street soldiers is set for dawn.
No room for delays, no tolerance for fuck-ups.
Alexander's moving like a damn turtle, though… crawling at the speed limit, signaling every lane change like a driving instructor's pet student.
I tap the horn lightly once, just a nudge.
No response.
Impatience builds in my chest, a familiar burn.
"Easy," Ivan says, voice calm as always. "We're in plenty of time. Last thing we need is a cop pulling us over for speeding. Draws attention. Bad idea."
I glance at him.
He's right, of course. Always the level head.
But the clock on the dash mocks me—plenty of time, yes, but time is a luxury in our world. One wrong move, and it's gone. I ease off the gas, matching Alexander's pace.
"Fine,” I grumble. “But if he's playing grandma, I'm passing him at the next straight."
Ivan chuckles. "Alexander's solid. He's watching. That's why he's ahead. That’s why he’s been your head of security for so long…"
I grunt agreement.
Alexander's been with me years—loyal, unflinching. If there's a tail or a setup, he'll spot it first. Still, the slow crawl grates. The highway thins out, buildings giving way to warehouses and industrial lots, which then make way for suburbs then rural nothing.
Stars prick the sky now, unfiltered by smog.
The quiet stretches. Ivan breaks it first. "The boy… Eddie,” Ivan says. “You two got a future when this shit's done?"
I keep my eyes on the road, but the question lands heavy.
Eddie—his face flashes in my mind.
