Page 37 of Forced Marriage to the Cruel Bratva Pakhan

“I don’t care.” The admission comes out harder than intended. “She’s in this situation because of decisions I made. I’m the one who brings her back.”

Mikhail studies me for a long moment, recognition flickering in his expression. “This isn’t about strategy anymore.”

“No,” I agree quietly. “It’s not.”

The acknowledgment should concern me more than it does. Allowing personal investment to override strategic thinking creates exactly the kind of vulnerability I’ve spent years avoiding. Leaders who let emotion dictate tactics make mistakes that cost lives.

The image of Serena being forced into that vehicle, fighting despite being outnumbered, disappearing into enemy hands while I sat in my office reviewing fucking shipping manifests—

I cut off the thought with vicious discipline.

“Assemble the teams,” I tell Mikhail. “We move in twenty minutes.”

The control room transforms into coordinated chaos as my men prepare for the assault. Weapons are distributed, tactical positions assigned, communication protocols established. I change into gear more appropriate for what’s coming—tactical pants, reinforced vest, shoulder holster for the Glock that’s killed more men than I bother counting.

Viktor appears with the final intelligence update. “Thermal imaging of the three priority locations shows activity at warehouse seven. Eight to ten individuals, concentrated in the southern section. One smaller heat signature separated from the main group.”

“That’s our target.” I check the weapon’s magazine, chamber a round with practiced efficiency. “Primary objective is extraction of Mrs. Rudenko. Secondary objective is elimination of anyone who interferes with that extraction. Questions?”

No one speaks.

“Good. Teams deploy in five minutes.”

I’m heading for the armory when my phone vibrates with an incoming message from an unknown number. The text contains a single image—Serena zip-tied to a chair in what appears to be an empty warehouse, her face showing a bruise forming along her left cheekbone.

Rage floods through me with physical force.

The next message arrives seconds later:Your wife is comfortable for now. Let’s discuss territorial adjustments before her accommodations become less pleasant.

I forward the message to Viktor. “Trace this. I want location confirmation before we deploy.”

The response comes within ninety seconds. “Number routes through multiple proxies, but the image metadata confirms warehouse seven. They’re sloppy, they didn’t scrub the location data.”

They want me to know where she is. Want me to come charging in, either to negotiate from weakness or walk into whatever trap they’ve prepared.

They’re going to regret that invitation.

“Teams move now,” I order, heading for the garage where armored vehicles wait with engines running. “Lethal force authorized for everyone except Morozov. I want him alive for questioning.”

Mikhail falls into step beside me. “You realize this could be exactly what they want. You walking into their territory, emotionally compromised, focused on extraction rather than threat assessment.”

“I know what it is.” I climb into the lead vehicle. “I’m doing it anyway.”

The drive takes twelve minutes through empty streets, three SUVs running dark with armed teams ready for immediate deployment. I spend the time reviewing thermal imaging, identifying entry points, calculating approach vectors that minimize exposure while maximizing tactical advantage.

Underneath the professional analysis, fury simmers with barely contained violence.

They put their hands on her. Bruised her face. Restrained her like property to be bargained over.

Whatever happens in the next hour, the Kravin Syndicate is going to learn a very specific lesson about the cost of touching what’s mine.

We park two blocks from the target, teams deploying with silent precision. The warehouse looms dark against the night sky, a three-story industrial building with minimal lighting and multiple access points.

I signal the team leads. “Alpha team takes the east entrance, Bravo covers west. I’m going through the southern loading bay with primary extraction team. Wait for my signal, then simultaneous breach.”

No one argues.

Time to go.