Page 82 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

“Come here.” I put a finger under her chin and tilt her head farther back before leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on her lips. “I understand, and I’m not upset. What matters now is Simon, and I have a plan,” I say. “It’s not polished yet, but we can start from there.”

She blinks rapidly, her eyes suddenly gleaming with interest. “Tell me.”

“You say you know Serrano, right? That knowledge will be to our advantage. All you have to do is tell us everything we need to know about him—every detail, big or small. It’ll give us a head start in finding your brother. We won’t need two days. We’re springing into action immediately. I’ve already scheduled an emergency meeting with the men tomorrow. Tonight, you need to calm down, eat, and recharge. You’ll need all the strength you can get for the operation. You’ll be central to the planning. That way you won’t think you’re not doing anything to help him.”

“I…I appreciate that, honestly, but…tomorrow?” She frowns. “Why not tonight? The sooner the better, right? I don’t think I can sleep, knowing that Simon is locked up, hungry, cold, and alone.”

I place a hand on her lips, then muster a small smile. “It’s hard to trust anything in this moment. I get that you don’t really trust me, either. But I need you to believe that I’ll bring Simon back alive,” I say softly, and stroke her cheek. “You won’t trade yourself for him. Tomorrow, we’ll have a full team, and we’ll be ready to extract Simon. I won’t fail you, and I definitely won’t fail him.”

Audrey releases a deep sigh, but the uncertainty returns, shining through her eyes.

It doesn’t matter.

I know that this time, my promise to her isn’t a mere threat, but a sacred vow.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Audrey

For the first time since I set foot in this crazy world, I understand the weight Igor carries. I know what it feels like to bear the hopes and expectations of every man under his command.

They have their eyes on me, waiting, expecting a plan that will assure our victory. I don’t want to fail them…or my brother.

I won’t fail Simon.

The room is almost suffocating with the scent of musk, leather jackets, and cold tension.

I sit at the edge of my seat, my eyes burning as I stare at the massive digital map projected across the center table.

Dozens of red markers glow against the dark topography, each one representing a shell company property tied to Serrano.

To my right, Igor leans forward.

I expect him make an input—display his mafia prowess, or something—but he’s completely silent.

His massive hands are planted flat on the glass table, his knuckles white. Around us, his top strategists murmur in low, clipped Russian, and their faces are hardened with anticipation for a war that’s rapidly reaching its breaking point.

They’re looking in the wrong places. That’s the mistake most people make when it comes to a man like Serrano.

“You’re wasting time on his strongholds.” I interrupt the low rumble of masculine voices.

The room goes dead silent. A few of the older men shift. They look slightly annoyed, but Igor’s gaze snaps to me. As it is most of the time, his eyes are unreadable, but the subtle nod of his chin gives me the floor.

Under his gaze, I don’t particularly feel proud that I have the information I’m about to share, but I don’t have a choice.

“Serrano never keeps leverage in his primary locations,” I explain, then trace a finger over the screen to drag a cluster of markers away. “He’s too paranoid for that. He prefers secondary properties, places that look completely abandoned from the outside but are structurally reinforced on the inside. I guess he does that to try to throw his enemies off his scent, if that makes any sense.”

I swipe through the data. There are twelve potential sites, but I filter them down to five. “Look.” I point at the screen. “Look at the recent utility activity and the unusual security camera pings from the grid. These five are alive and breathing, even if they look dead on paper.”

“Five is still too many,” Igor rumbles, and his deep voice vibrates against my spine. “The problem is, if we strike blindly, there’s a higher chance that we’ll lose him.”

Him being my brother.

I swallow down the gruesome image that quickly forms in my mind at the thought of what Serrano could do to him, and force myself to be positive that this operation will work.

It has to.

“We won’t strike blindly,” I counter, then zoom in closer on the remaining cluster. “I can say I know Serrano well enough to know he always chooses places near water or rail access. Comfort means nothing to him, but escape routes? They mean everything.”