I stand at the window of my office, my hands braced against the frame as I stare out at the manicured lawn below. Somewhere out there, Mariya is being held by people I know nothing about. A new Pakhan, a new family, so fresh to the territory that noneof my contacts have useful intelligence. No one knows their operations, their locations, or their methods.
And my wife has been with them for an entire night.
The thought makes my chest tighten until I can barely breathe. What are they doing to her right now? Is she hurt? Scared? Fighting back the way I know she would, or has fear finally broken through that stubborn courage she wears like armor?
I should have stopped her, should have locked her in this fucking office and refused to let her walk into that meeting. But she was so determined, so convinced she could handle herself, and I let her go because some part of me believed she was right.
I was wrong, and now she's paying for it.
Behind me, six of my most trusted men stand in a line across the office, their expressions ranging from nervous to terrified. They should be terrified. It was their job to protect Mariya, to track the vehicle she left in, and to have eyes on every possible route away from the wharf. And they failed.
Matvey leans against the wall near the door, his arms crossed over his chest and his dark eyes fixed on the men with cold fury. He's been silent since we realized Mariya was gone, but I can feel the rage radiating off him. He blames himself as much as I blame these incompetent bastards standing in front of me.
I turn slowly from the window, my hands curling into fists at my sides. The movement draws every eye in the room, and I watch them tense, waiting for the explosion they know is coming.
"Explain to me," I say quietly, my voice deadly calm, "how six trained men failed to track a single vehicle leaving the waterfront."
The oldest of the group, a thick-shouldered enforcer, clears his throat. "Boss, we had eyes on all the main routes. The vehicle never passed our checkpoints."
"Then they used a route you didn't cover." My voice is still quiet, but the edge underneath makes the man flinch. "Which means you failed to anticipate their movements."
"We covered everything we could?—"
"You coverednothing." The words crack through the room like a whip. "My wife is missing. She's been in the hands of an unknown Bratva family for twelve hours, and you're standing here telling me you did your best?"
His jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue. Smart man.
I move closer, my gaze sweeping across all six of them. "You had one job. Protect her. Track her. Make sure she came home safely. And you failed."
"Boss—" one of the younger men starts, but I cut him off with a look.
"I don't want excuses. I want answers." I stop in front of one of them, close enough that he has to tilt his head back slightly to meet my eyes. "You have twenty-four hours to find out who took her and where they're holding her. If you don't, it's your asses. Possibly your lives."
The threat hangs in the air, heavy and absolute. I watch understanding settle over their faces, see the fear that comes with knowing I'm not bluffing. I've killed men for less than this.
"Get out," I say flatly. "And don't come back until you have something useful."
They file out quickly, their boots echoing against the marble floor as they disappear into the hallway beyond. The door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving just Matvey and me in the sudden quiet.
I return to the window, my hands bracing against the frame again as I stare out at the city. The morning sun is bright, almost mocking in its cheerfulness. Somewhere out there, Mariya is trapped, and I'm standing here helpless.
"This isn't your fault," Matvey says quietly from behind me.
"Isn't it?" I don't turn around. "I let her go. I knew it was dangerous, and I let her walk into that meeting anyway."
"She would have gone whether you approved or not." Matvey moves closer, his reflection appearing in the glass beside mine. "You know how stubborn she is."
A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. "Stubborn doesn't begin to cover it."
"She's also smart. Resourceful. If anyone can survive this, it's her."
I want to believe him, want to hold onto the image of Mariya fighting back, using that sharp mind and fearless determination to stay alive. But the fear is stronger, clawing at my chest with every passing hour.
"I'm in love with her," I say quietly.
The words hang in the air between us, raw and honest in a way I rarely allow myself to be. Matvey doesn't respond immediately, and I can feel his surprise even without looking at him.
"I know," he finally says.
