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I smirk, even though he can't see it. "You lend me a trio of your best men, and when this is over, I'll oweyoua favor."
The line goes quiet for no longer than a heartbeat, but it feels like an eternity. Finally, Carlos chuckles, the sound rich and deep. "You're a clever man, Samuil. It's not often someone offers me a favor. Very well, you have a deal."
"Good. Send them to my location. I'll text you the details."
"Done," he replies. "But remember, Samuil, favors are a two-way street. I expect you to honor our agreement."
"You'll have your favor," I assure him, a predatory smile tugging at my lips. Mutual favors, in this world of ours, are how the most solid relationships are built. Carlos and I are now bound by a debt that can't easily be shrugged off, and I intend to use that to my advantage.
As the call ends, satisfaction hums in my veins. But the momentary respite is shattered by another incoming call. The number is masked, but that only makes me more certain who it is.
With a deep breath, I answer, "Radu."
Radu's voice drips with malicious glee as he speaks, every word deliberately chosen to taunt. "Samuil. How's it feel knowing you're not the big, bad wolf anymore?"
My fingers grip the phone tighter, but I keep my voice calm and cold. "What do you want?"
"Ah, straight to the point. I wanted to hear you beg, maybe even cry a little," he jeers.
"You won't get that satisfaction from me." A raw fury simmers just below the surface, but I refuse to let it show. "Put Ana on."
Radu's laughter, throaty and vile, sears my eardrums. "That's exactly why I called. I thought you might like to see her." Suddenly, the voice call shifts to video. My heart lurches in my chest as Ana's bruised face comes into view.
Every mark, every blemish on her face fuels the inferno of rage inside me. But through it all, her eyes—those fierce, resilient eyes—glint with defiance.
"Samuil," her voice is steady, even with the hint of pain lacing her tone. She offers me a weak smile. "The baby is fine. I can feel it."
My throat tightens, emotions threatening to pour out. She's the embodiment of strength, even in the face of such adversity. But before I can respond, Ana leans slightly closer, her gaze unwavering. "Remember the Gvozdika. It's important."
Gvozdika? The red flower. But what is she getting at? I try to grasp the hidden meaning, the unspoken message she's trying to convey.
But before I can piece anything together, Radu's twisted visage is back in the frame, a smirk of twisted achievement playing on his lips. "See? She's alive... for now."
"You touch her again, and you won't live to see another day," I growl, barely managing to keep my voice level.
His laughter fills the line again, the sound making my skin crawl. "I'll let you stew on that for a bit. I'll call again when I feel like it." The call abruptly ends, plunging me into a world of silence.
I stand there for what feels like hours, the weight of the situation pressing down on me, the cryptic reference to the Gvozdika echoing in my mind. It's a clue, a lifeline she's thrown out to me, and I'm damned if I don't catch it and pull her to safety.
The room around me blurs as thoughts race through my mind, plans forming and reforming. One thing's for sure—I'll burn the world down if it means getting Ana back safely. Whatever Radu thinks he's gained, he's about to learn that you never corner a wild animal. Especially not one with everything to lose.
The gears in my mind grind into motion, connecting the dots. The distant beeping of a truck backing up during the call, the slight echo of the space she was in. It had to be a warehouse. And that reference to the Gvozdika, the flower that has woven its way through so many memories shared with Ana. It’s a rare species outside of Russia so there’s likely a main vendor or distributor in the city, a single point of delivery, a starting point. I think back to my favorite vendor of where I just recently bought a bouquet but I can’t be certain she’s the only one in the city that sells Gvozdika.
I quickly dial Andrei, my fingers moving with purpose. After a couple of rings, his voice, slightly distorted by the jet’s cabin air, answers. "Samuil?"
"Andrei, I need you to do something for me," I say, cutting straight to the chase.
"Of course. What is it?"
"Just listen," I snap, trying to keep my emotions in check. "Find out where the Gvozdika flower gets delivered in New York, the main distribution location."
Silence. Then, "The what?"
"The Gvozdika, Andrei. It's important," I insist, voice hard as steel.
His confusion is apparent but then, "Alright. I'll do it. But why—"
I don’t let him finish. "Just do it."
