Page 71 of Her Courage

I bit down on my rage, forcing my voice to stay level. "The money's gone, Patrice. I transferred everything to Sierra and Monica's trusts. There's nothing left for you."

"Then you'll find a way to get it back." Her voice turned cold. "Two million dollars. Same as before. You have twenty-four hours."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I wonder how long it takes to sell a pretty little girl on the black market." The casual way she said it made my blood run cold. "I'm sure someone would pay handsomely for⁠—"

"Don't." The word came out as a growl. "Don't you fucking dare finish that sentence."

Andrei's hand landed on my shoulder, grounding me before I completely lost control.

"Twenty-four hours," Patrice repeated. "I'll send wiring instructions. Oh, and Kaleb? Tell that Russian attack dog of yours to stop trying to trace this call. I'm not an idiot."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone, my hand shaking with barely suppressed rage.

"Mikhail got a partial trace," Andrei said quietly. "Lake Oswego area. He's narrowing it down."

Lake Oswego. Where Patrice and Rupert lived.

Of course she'd taken Keeley there. Right under our noses.

"We need to call Marshall," I said, my mind already racing through options. "Get a warrant, send police⁠—"

"No time." Andrei's tone was flat. Final. "By the time we navigate legal channels, she could move Keeley. Or worse."

He didn't have to spell out what "worse" meant.

"Then what?" I demanded. "We can't just storm in there."

Andrei's expression shifted into something I'd only seen glimpses of before—the cold, calculated look of someone who'd done terrible things and would do them again if necessary.

"We can," he said quietly. "And we will."

He pulled out his phone, dialing a number I didn't recognize. When he spoke, it was in rapid Russian—low, urgent, commanding.

I caught enough to understand. He was calling in the full weight of Sergei's people. Not just Mikhail. An entire team.

Because this wasn't just about money anymore.

This was about family.

And the Volkovs—for all their darkness, all their violence—understood family.

Oscar pulled up to Sierra's house. She was waiting on the porch, Monica beside her. Both stood the moment they saw the car.

I was out before Oscar fully stopped, Sierra throwing herself into my arms.

"Did she call you?" she gasped against my chest. "Please tell me you heard from her."

"She called." I held her tight, feeling her shake. "Keeley's alive. Patrice has her at the Lake Oswego house."

"Then we need to⁠—"

"We will," I promised. "But we need to do this smart. If we spook her⁠—"

"She might run," Monica finished grimly. She looked pale but composed, her analytical mind already working through scenarios. "Or hurt Keeley to maintain leverage."