Page 93 of His Stolen Bride

Enzo sees my screen and nods once.

We walk.

The hallway in the safe house is silent. Men move out of our way without asking questions. That’s what I pay for. That’s what I built. Vladimir built fear and called it loyalty. I built a structure that doesn’t collapse the moment one man starts shaking.

Outside, the air is sharp. The vans are waiting with engines low. Nobody’s talking. There’s no big speech. No countdown.

We don’t do drama.

Enzo opens the rear door of the first van and slides in. I follow, two more men behind us. One driver, eyes forward. Another man on comms.

I watch the river on the way there because it’s a habit, not because it’s pretty. Water is an exit route. Water is a problem. Water makes men sloppy if they think it will save them.

Vladimir’s compound rises ahead in clean lines and glass, like it belongs on a brochure.

It doesn’t.

We turn onto the private road. There’s a barrier gate and a bored guard station. Vladimir’s men are always bored. He likes them bored. Bored men don’t think. Bored men obey.

Tonight, bored men are going to freeze.

The van rolls to a stop a full car length back from the gate.

Enzo doesn’t tell the driver to pull closer.

He watches.

A man in a dark jacket steps out of the guard station. He lifts his hand like he’s about to wave us off, then he pauses and looks over our hood. He’s one of the bought ones. Not bribed. Bought.

There’s a difference.

Bribed men can take your money and still do what they want when they panic.

Bought men have already accepted the alternative, and the alternative is a death sentence.

He touches the side of his throat once, casual.

Enzo speaks into his mic. “Green.”

The south van moves first, slowly, like it has all the time in the world. The north van follows, and the gate opens because the guard hits the release without checking the plate.

We roll through.

No alarms.

No sirens.

Vladimir would call this betrayal. He’d spit the word like it tastes bitter.

I call it predictable. And that’s why Alina and I are going to win.

The property is split into three zones. We mapped it for a week. We didn’t have to send drones. We didn’t have to be cute. We had men inside.

Drivers. Supply coordinators. A man who signs the maintenance orders. A man who cleans the vents and hears everything.

Vladimir never learns. He thinks the people who touch the bottom of his world don’t matter. He thinks the only threats come from men with suits and guns.

He’s wrong.