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Horror ices my insides.
It’s worse. Worse than I could have imagined. Nadya has always been the loyal assistant, the ever-present right hand. Notthis. Not a kidnapper. Not a traitor.
Viktor’s hands fly over the keyboard, his eyes fixed on the monitors. "I've got something," he announces. He points to a map displayed on the screen, highlighting a blinking dot. "She's in one of our tracked vehicles. If it’s the car Nadya used to abduct Kira yesterday…” Viktor hits a few keys, pulling up a log. “Yeah, here we go. The car's history shows it went north, to a wooded area outside of the city. Looks like she’s heading in the same direction.”
Without having to say a word, Pavel and Roman stand in unison, each swiftly checking the magazines of their guns for ammunition.
A silent agreement passes between us.
Adrenaline pulses through me. "Let's go."
Viktor stays behindto run point. It’s Pavel, Roman, and me racing to catch up with Nadya. We’re not involving anyone else. Partly because we don’t yet know who can be trusted—Nadya may have had help—and partly because this is personal. She betrayed all of our trust, and that’s not something we’ll ever forgive.
I’ve filled my right hands in on the memorabilia of my life I found in her room—one part of this sickening picture.
Roman is driving, hard determination etched on his face as the cityscape gradually gives way to rural roads, the bustle of Moscow fading into the rearview mirror.
Pavel leans forward, squinting at the passing scenery. “Where the fuck is she going?”
"Masha's old cabin," I mutter. I know it in my bones, though I’ve never been there. Kira talked about it often.
Viktor's voice crackles through the comms, breaking the tense silence. "Her vehicle just stopped. You're about a mile away from her. I suggest you park and approach on foot so we don’t spook her.”
Roman pulls the car off the road, finding cover among the dense evergreens. We gear up and start moving through the thatch of trees. The sky is dark overhead, a reminder of how long I've been running on no sleep fuelled only by adrenaline and hope.
Hope that Kira is still alive. Unharmed. That our baby is too.
Nothing else matters.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
KIRA
I wakeup groggy and disoriented, only to find myself still tied to the bed in the cabin, exactly where Nadya left me. I’m dehydrated and weak, fighting the effects of the drugs, but I won’t give up. I have to try and free myself.
Time is lost on me. All I know is that dark turned into day and it’s back to dark now.
For the last however many hours, I’ve been working to loosen the knots that hold me in place. Gritting my teeth, I contort my body, wriggling and twisting to loosen the twine's grip. I’ve already managed to gain a few inches of slack, and with each shift, the knots loosen, giving me enough room to maneuver.
I extend my arm, reaching for a glass shard that landed on the bed when Nadya broke the vase. The sharp edges glint in the dim light. It's still a stretch, but desperation fuels me. My fingers are numb, my muscles scream in protest, but every fiber of my being is focused on this single, vital task—to free myself from these bindings. To save myself and this child.
To see Maxim again and tell him straight up that he's the one for me. I've never felt this intensely before. Being his wife, building a real family together… It's not what I planned, but now it's all I want.
The rope bites into my skin, but I stretch my fingers, inching closer to the shard. My fingers brush against the cold, hard glass, and I nearly cry in relief. Carefully, I wedge the shard between my wrists, sawing at the twine with all the strength I can muster. Each movement is painstaking and exhausting, but I keep going.
The sound of a car door slamming freezes me in place.
Fuck. She’s back, and I’m not free yet. Time is running out.
I can hear Nadya beyond the doorway. I stop all movement, hiding the shard in my palm, not wanting her to know what I possess. She strides into the room, her face expressionless, a gun held firmly in her grip.
“What? No knitting needles?” I say in a weak voice.
She gives a cold laugh. “No need. This won’t take long.”
My spine stiffens. “What won’t?”
“You’ll see. Let me remind you not to do anything foolish. Bleeding out from a gunshot wound would be a terrible way for Maxim to find you. He’s already distraught, searching all over the city for his pregnant wife that ran away.”
