Because even though I don’t say it, they know what Natalya means to me. I exhale slowly, fighting to keep my voice controlled.
“No one moves,” I say, every word a blade. “No one touches a door or window. No one tries to break in.”
“But—”
“No one.” My voice cracks like a whip. “I’m five minutes out. You do nothing until I get there. If any of you act without my order, and she gets hurt…”
“We understand,” Marko says immediately. “We’ll hold position.”
“We won’t let anything happen to her,” Pavel adds, more quietly.
My throat tightens, not with emotion, but with the murderous need to get to her.
“I’m on my way,” I say. Then I lower my voice; “And listen to me carefully.”
“Yes, boss.”
“When I arrive,” I murmur, stepping into the backseat as the engine revs beneath me, “we end this. Fast. Clean. And permanently.”
“Yes sir.”
I hang up.
My hand stays clenched around the phone until my knuckles crack.
Five minutes.
Five fucking minutes between her and whatever those worthless bastards think they can do.
I’ll kill them all—I’ll kill anyone who hurts the woman I love.
Chapter Seven
Natalya
The darkness in the closet feels like it’s folding in on me.
Vanda won’t stop shaking. Her breath rattles against my thigh in short, panicked bursts, and I keep one hand on her scruff, trying to keep her steady, trying to stop my own heart from flying out of my chest.
It’s useless.
My palms are sweating so badly I can barely grip the doorknob. My mind won’t stop replaying everything that happened in the last thirty minutes—should be up to that now even though it feels like an eternity.
And then I went and left my phone on the counter like an idiot.
No one knows I’m here.
No one knows I need help.
“Okay,” I whisper to Vanda, my lips pressed to her trembling ear. “We have to think. Just think.”
I force myself to inhale slowly, even though each breath feels like it’s scraping down my throat. I reach for the wall behind us, and my fingers brush something thin and cold. Wire. Probably from the ribbon bins. The memory of Andrei teaching me to jimmy locks suddenly flashes in my head.
As kids, when our mother would lock us in closets as punishment and I would be inconsolable, Andrei had taught me to save myself. Seems like the time has finally come to put the skill to practice.
Hopefully, I don’t mess this up.
“Okay,” I whisper, trying to swallow the ache. “Here goes nothing.”
