Page 94 of His Stolen Bride

We stop inside the perimeter. The vans don’t park in the open. They tuck behind a service structure that blocks line of sight from the main windows.

Enzo leans forward. “Two minutes.”

“Less,” I say.

He shoots me a look. “You want speed, you’ll accept noise.”

“I’ll accept speed,” I answer.

Enzo smiles once, and then he’s moving.

Doors slide open. Men spill out in disciplined silence. No one runs. Running makes people look like they’re afraid. Fear spreads. I move with Enzo down the service lane, through the maintenance access we were given by a man who hates Vladimir because Vladimir took his brother’s fingers for being late.

That man didn’t ask for money. He asked for certainty.

That was the first thing I offered to everyone I approached. Not payment. Not promises. Certainty.

I didn’t say, Trust me.

I said, Here’s what he’s going to do to you, and here’s how you survive it.

I showed them intercepted comms. I showed them the plan Vladimir had for “clean-up” after he got Alina back. I showed them the part where he talked about burning the building, killing anyone left, and walking away with his prize like the world owed him applause.

Vladimir always thinks he’s the only one allowed to use people.

So do I.

The difference is I don’t pretend it’s loyalty.

We reach the first interior door. It’s supposed to require a coded badge.

It clicks open before Enzo touches it, and we move. A man steps out of a side room with a coffee cup in his hand and a pistol at his hip. He sees us and his eyes widen.

He goes to reach for the gun, but he doesn’t get to complete the action. One of my men hits him in the throat with the side of his hand. The cup drops. Coffee splashes the floor. The man folds without a sound. He’s dragged into the room and the door closes.

Enzo doesn’t pause. “West corridor is ours,” he says into comms. “Cut the cameras now.”

A second later, the lobby feed on my phone goes black.

Vladimir won’t like that.

Good.

We reach the first intersection. Two hallways. One leads to offices and the show rooms. One leads deeper into the building, where the security systems live.

That deeper one is where Alina’s marker is moving. I follow the marker.

I don’t need to tell Enzo why. He knows.

We move faster now. A door opens ahead. Two men come out, one with a rifle slung, one with a pistol drawn. They see us and stop.

They don’t fire.

Their eyes flick behind me, to my shoulder, to my hands.

They recognize me.

Vladimir didn’t think men would hesitate to shoot if they saw me. He thought fear would do the job.