Quietly, I work at the ropes, shifting my wrists, maneuvering them to loosen the knots. Patiently, I count each breath, push the ropes, pull, shift. As long as I'm quiet and calm, the guard won't turn around and look at me.
It takes almost ten minutes to get the ropes off, and the only reason I manage it is that I've trained for situations like this. And unsurprisingly, they used a generic common knot to restrain me. They should have known better.
I stand up without breathing. I don't dare make a single sound.
I move in silence. One step. Two.
When I'm right behind him, I let out a sharp breath, and before he has a chance to turn and look at me, I snap his neck. His body drops like dead weight.
I catch his lifeless corpse before it can slap against the ground. Instead of letting him drop, I lower him quietly and then grab his gun.
Find her. Get out of here.
That's the only thing that matters.
Except that after I've quietly searched every inch of the warehouse, I realize that they've taken her to a different location.Nikita isn't here. She's being held somewhere else, and I have no fucking idea where that might be.
The panic is agonizing.
The thought of losing her… the idea of anything happening to her… it almost breaks me.
In this moment, the truth sinks deeper into my soul than ever before.
It's the pain that brings clarity. In that white, blinding panic, I see things for what they are.
I can't live without her.
I don't care about my pride or my ego. I don't care about defending myself against her family or mine. I don't care if I have to grovel and beg and plead to ask them to let me be with her. She is theonlything that matters. She iseverything.
I fucking love her.
I was so fucking stupid I wouldn't even admit it to myself.
I fucking love her, and she's been taken.
I shove everything aside and run to the small office I saw earlier. There are a number of guards patrolling the place, so I need to be careful. I'll be no good to her if they catch me.
Ducking below the desk, I pull the office phone down onto my lap and dial a number I thought I would never in my life need to dial.
It rings, and my stomach churns.
"Who is this?" Matvei snaps.
"Bardil. Don't hang up."
He sighs.
"On the way home, we were attacked. Sokolov took me to his warehouse, and he has Nikita somewhere, too. I can't find her. They have her locked up in a different location," I whisper in harsh, clipped urgency.
"Where are you?" he growls, instantly understanding that this is no game.
"I recognize the place. It's a warehouse near the docks. By the corner on the west side. There's a giant red crane right outside the window here."
"Where is my sister?" he demands.
"I don't know, man. Please. I need your help. I need everyone. I have to find her. Please, just work with me on this."
For the first time in my life, I have something to fight for. Something real. Something that belongs to me. Something apart from my family.
