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Before I can process what's happening, I'm being dragged toward the van. I kick and squirm, but the men are too strong, their hold on me unbreakable. A gag is forced into my mouth, stifling my cries, and a bag is pulled over my head, plunging me into darkness.
I feel the cold metal of handcuffs snapping around my wrists, binding me helplessly. My mind races with fear and desperation. This can't be happening. I can't let them take me, I have to get back to Ivan. But the more I struggle, the tighter their grip becomes.
The van's door slams shut, sealing me inside with my captors. I hear the engine start, and we begin moving. Every turn and bump in the road sends a fresh wave of fear through me.
As the van speeds away, I'm left alone with my fear, the darkness of the bag suffocating, the handcuffs a cold reminder of my helplessness. My mind clings to the hope that Ivan will find me, that he'll come to my rescue. He has to. I can't face this alone. Not with so much at stake.
Chapter 33
Ivan
I'm pushing the car to its limits, my hands gripping the steering wheel tight as I navigate through the congested streets of Manhattan. Every second counts, and my mind fills with worst-case scenarios. Julie is out here alone, and every fiber of my being is screaming to find her.
Fyodor's beside me, his expression grim, a mirror of my own concern. He points out the guards’ SUV as we approach Barb's building. Julie isn’t in it. My heart sinks. I know something's wrong.
I slam the car into park and bolt out, rushing toward the building with a singular focus. Director Hargrove's information, the address he had provided, echoes in my mind. This has to lead somewhere.
A crowd has formed nearby, and my instincts tell me it's not for anything good. I force my way through, elbows out, my presence demanding space. People turn, their expressions a mix of shock and curiosity, but I don't have time for politeness. I need answers.
At the center of the crowd, I find a man lying on the ground, his body twisted in an unnatural way. Blood pools around him, painting the pavement red. He's a stranger to me, not anyone I recognize, but the violence of the scene tells me this is no ordinary shooting.
I scan the crowd, searching for any sign of Julie or someone who might have seen something. My mind races with questions.
The wounded man is barely conscious, his breathing ragged and shallow. I crouch beside him, my training kicking in. "Hey, can you hear me?" I ask, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
He groans, his eyes fluttering open for a moment. There's fear in his gaze, a haunted look that speaks of horrific things seen and done. "Help," he rasps, his voice barely audible.
I glance up at Fyodor, who's already on his phone, calling for an ambulance. "We need to find out what happened here," I say to Fyodor before turning back to the man. "Did you see a woman? Blonde hair, about this tall?" I gesture with my hand, the image of Julie clear in my mind.
The man's eyes widen slightly, recognition flickering in their depths. "Ambush," he coughs, the word laced with pain. "Took her... van."
My heart stops for a moment. Took her. He must mean Julie. The pieces click into place, forming a picture I'd been dreading. She's been taken, and this man, whoever he is, witnessed it.
"Who took her? Do you know where?" I press, urgency sharpening my words.
The man shakes his head weakly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Didn't see... faces..."
The ambulance's siren wails in the distance, growing louder each second. I stand up, frustration and fear battling within me. Julie is out there, in the hands of unknown enemies, and I'm clueless about where to start looking.
As the paramedics arrive and begin tending to the man, I step back, my mind working overtime. This was no random attack—it’s connected to Boris, to the Bratva, to the danger we've been trying to escape.
"Ivan," Fyodor says, his voice low. "We need to regroup. Think this through."
I nod, my jaw clenched. He's right. Charging in blindly won't help Julie. I need a plan, a way to find her quickly and bring her back safely.
I listen in as the paramedics ask the man his name. He says it’s Calvin. As the paramedics load him onto a stretcher, he reaches an arm out toward me to beckon me closer. He tells me he is Julie’s father and a new heaviness descends on the situation. Calvin's face is twisted in pain, but there's a glimmer of something else in his eyes, fear, maybe even regret. "I asked Julie to meet me here, at Barb’s place," he gasps, wincing with every word. "But she never made it to the door. Three men grabbed her, just snatched her right off the street and threw her into a van."
My hands clench into fists, the fury building inside of me like a storm. "Which way did they go? Did you see the van's license plate?" I press, trying to keep my voice level.
Calvin shakes his head, coughing slightly. "I couldn't see... they were fast. One of them shot me when I tried to stop them," he says.
Fyodor chimes in. "Did you recognize any of them? Anything that could help us find them?"
Calvin closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength. "No, I didn’t recognize them. But one of them... he had a tattoo, right here," he points to his neck, "some kind of symbol, looked like a... like a snake or dragon."
My mind races, processing this new information. A tattoo could be a lead, a way to identify at least one of the kidnappers. "Anything else? Any detail could help us," I ask, trying to piece together a plan of action.
Calvin looks up at me, his gaze meeting mine. "I’m sorry, I didn’t... I just wanted to talk to her. I never thought..." His voice trails off, choked with emotion.
