Page 92 of His Stolen Bride

My eyelids feel heavier. My mind stays sharp, but my body is slipping.

I keep swallowing. The capsule presses. Still there. Still solid.

Vladimir watches my struggle and enjoys it.

The room dims at the edges. My hearing narrows. I focus hard on one thought only.

Transmit.

Transmit.

Then the darkness closes in as Vladimir turns his head and speaks to his men.

“Move her,” he says. “Now.”

26

MIKHAIL

The marker doesn’t chirp, beep, or announce itself like a routine alarm. What it does is change color on my screen, and immediately, the coordinate line shifts half a block in a way it shouldn’t.

Alina’s dot isn’t at the original location any longer.

It isn’t in the room with the windows over the river. It isn’t near the front cameras, where he’d want proof and ego food. It’s moving, fast, down and right, deeper into the property.

Enzo is standing behind me, arms crossed, jaw tight, trying to pretend he isn’t waiting for me to blink. “Phase Four,” I say.

Enzo’s hand is already on his headset. “You heard him. Phase Four. Now.”

Screens reflect in the glass in front of me. We’ve got three feeds active, two inside, one outside. One of Vladimir’s men sold us a camera access key, and he’d tried to play it off as harmless. It wasn’t harmless. Nothing is harmless when it’s timed right.

A guard on the exterior gate looks left, then right. He’s supposed to. His body’s trained to do it.

Then he steps aside without checking his phone.

That’s our signal.

I stand and shrug into my coat, because appearances still matter, even when you’re about to turn a compound inside out. The pistol sits heavily at my back. Another in my ankle holster. One knife. Two spare mags.

Enzo moves with me, already barking into the headset. “North van, hold. South van, roll. You don’t touch the gate until I say.”

The map on the table is simple. The property isn’t.

Vladimir picked a place that looks like money and legitimate business. Renovated warehouse lines, clean stone, private dock access, enough office space to hide paperwork and bodies. He put it near the water so he could leave if the street got hot. He routed ownership through three shells so nobody local could connect it to him unless they wanted to die.

He didn’t pick it because he’s smart.

He picked it because he likes the way it makes him feel.

My phone buzzes once. I check it without changing my face.

MOTHER: OISIN IS ASLEEP. SOFIA IS WITH HIM. HE ATE. HE ASKED FOR YOU. I TOLD HIM YOU’RE WORKING.

I type back one line.

LOCK THE HOUSE. NO WINDOWS. NO CALLS. ENZO HAS EXTRA MEN OUTSIDE.

I don’t add anything soft. My mother doesn’t need soft. She understands quiet, and she understands war.