Page 106 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

The whole room seemed to choke on its breath.

Unknown number on the screen. I opened the message.

The first photo loaded.

Briony tied to a wooden chair, hands bound behind her back. Golden hair tangled against her face, duct tape over her mouth. Pale as death, but those brown eyes glared straight at the camera.

That was her. Even bound and trembling with fear, she wouldn't give them the reaction they wanted.

The second message popped up.

"You blocked my number, but that's fine. I'll send you a huge surprise instead. Come alone to the address I'm sending. Time we had a proper talk—Brinny"

My stomach turned.

Makar snatched my phone.

"Brinny?"

He saw the photo of Briony bound. All color drained from his face.

A third message appeared—an address outside the city.

The Vasiliev family used to own several warehouses. My people had sealed most during asset liquidation, but some had been transferred through shell companies. This location wasn't on my original list. They'd prepared their exit long ago.

Maybe from the moment I'd said the Vasilievs would pay, they'd been planning this. Brinny knew damn well I'd walk into any trap for Briony and the baby.

"Get me building plans for that area." I gestured for Makar to hand the phone to Gleb.

He complied, but still slammed a fist on the desk.

"Stay calm."

"She's been kidnapped!"

"Which is why you can't charge in with guns blazing." I suppressed the urge to deck him.

"What are you waiting for? For them to dump her body in front of you? Don't forget—this is all because of you!" Makar shouted.

My lungs ignited, but I had no response. The photo showed Briony still watching me. She'd been taken because of me. If I hadn't gotten close to her, Brinny wouldn't be jealous, wouldn't use her as leverage for revenge.

"Damn it." The curse rolled from my throat.

My old pinkie injury started throbbing.

I forced the emotions down. Guilt wouldn't save her. Neither would rage. Only a plan could.

"Gleb. Map."

Gleb set the tablet on the desk. Satellite imagery spread out—an abandoned factory, river to the east, highway west, old rail line north. Main building had one obvious entrance, rear loading docks in the storage area.

"No live surveillance nearby," Gleb said. "Vasiliev's people cut power thirty minutes ago, but backup lines are still active. Vigo's involved. At least three vehicles went in. None came out."

Vigo's involvement wasn't surprising. He'd support whatever his precious daughter did.

"How many?"

"Eight confirmed. Maybe more."