Page 83 of The Russian's Bought Bride

“When did he call this in?” I ask

“Ten minutes ago.”

Too long already. Every second Danielle spends with those people is another second I can’t stand to lose.

My chest tightens at the thought of her terrified and alone somewhere with Grigori’s men, or worse…

But I shut the thought down immediately before it fully forms. I refuse to even entertain that possibility.

“She’s alive,” I say aloud, more to myself than anyone else, trying to focus on getting my hands to stop shaking from the shock in my system.

Roman studies me carefully for a second before nodding once, and he carefully slides my pistol back into my hand. “Then let’s keep it that way. We need to move.”

The next several minutes blur together in motion as SUV doors slam, weapons are checked, and engines roar to life beneath the flashing emergency lights.

I barely remember climbing into the backseat beside Sergey, given how my head still feels like it’s splitting apart, but adrenaline keeps dragging me forward anyway. Getting Dani back is all I can focus on.

The city streaks past outside the tinted windows in neon smears of vibrant color, and even now, people crowd sidewalks near casinos completely oblivious to the war quietly unfolding around them. Seeing them so carefree while I’m on the verge of losing my mind pisses me off more than usual.

Sergey loads another magazine with practiced, efficient movements beside me before glancing over. “You good?”

“No.”

He grunts like that’s the answer he expects, and he murmurs, “You look like hell.”

“Clearly,” I mutter, glancing down at myself.

Blood has dried stiff against my collar and jaw by now. Every bruise from the crash is beginning to settle deeper into my body, and pain throbs harder with each passing minute. I can only imagine what I look like to them, but I ignore all of it.

Because every time my thoughts drift for even a second, I remember Danielle being dragged away from me. I can hear the fear in her voice so clearly, and see the way she reached back toward me. My heart lurches recalling the sickening moment my fingers missed hers by inches.

I slam my fist against the door to make it rattle, forcing out a breath

Sergey looks over sharply.

“This is my fault.”

“No, it isn’t,” he says immediately. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have. I brought her into this,” I utter, struggling to hold down the rage building inside me.

“Malenkov made his choice.”

“I should’ve protected her better.”

That’s the part eating me alive.

Dani trusted me. Against all logic and every reason not to, she trusted me to keep her safe. Now she’s somewhere in the hands of the exact monsters I promised to protect her from.

Roman’s voice crackles through the speakers in the SUV ahead of us. “We’re three minutes out.”

Instant silence settles inside the car, and we all shift into restless vigilance.

I check my weapon again, even though my hands are still slightly unsteady from the concussion, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except getting her back.

The warehouse district comes into view moments later. Rusted fencing lines the perimeter while abandoned buildings loom ahead.

Sergey’s phone dings, and he reads it immediately. “Ruslan’s already there. He said there’s movement inside, and at least eight men are confirmed.”