Page 33 of Ruby Menace

What have they done with her?

I fight my way through the last of the attackers, my mind racing. I have to find her whatever it takes. Every second she’s out of my sight means her life is in danger.

I hear a noise behind me and spin around, my knife at the ready. But it’s not an attacker. It’s Dima, his face grim.

“Boss,” he says, panting heavily. “We have a problem.”

“What is it?” I demand, my voice harsh.

“This is a diversion,” he confirms the odd premonition I’d been feeling. “They’ve taken her somewhere else.”

Motherfucker.

I feel a white-hot rage surge through me as my suspicions are confirmed. It feels like a primal fury that threatens to consume me.

I’m coming for you, Ptichka.

I’ll burn down this fucking city if I have to.

“Where?” I growl, my knife clenched tightly in my hand.

“I don’t know, Boss.” Dima says, shaking his head. “We haven’t found any clues.”

I nod, my jaw clenched. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the bloodlust that has always been a part of me. Every minute we spend here is another minute my woman has to spend at the mercy of Vlad Petrov. I can not rest until I have her back.

“Find me someone who can still speak.” I turn to my men, my voice cold and deadly. It’s probably a tall order. We’ve flattened pretty much everyone in our path. But it’s not too long before I hear a strangled scream. There’s the sound of a scuffle and then something being dragged across the bare floor.

Yuri, my head of security, emerges from behind a pile of crates; he has someone by the back of his collar and is hauling the kicking bastard in our direction. Yuri dumps him at my feet, putting a foot on his chest to pin him to the floor.

I stare down at the man cowering before me, his eyes wide with apprehension. He’s one of the few still breathing in this warehouse, and he knows it. He also knows that he’s only alive because I want something from him. But there’s a gaping hole in his gut, and I know he’s not going to last much longer. I have to work fast.

“Where is she?” I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

The man’s lips tremble as he tries to speak, but no sound comes out. His face is ashen, a gray tint to his skin hinting at devastating blood loss. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and haul him to his feet, my fingers digging into his flesh. He gives a sharp scream.

“Where is she?” I repeat, my voice louder this time.

The man’s eyes dart around the room, taking in the carnage that surrounds us. He knows that he’s next if he doesn’t give me what I want.

“Help me,” he chokes out, trying to clutch a hand over his belly, “I need a doctor.”

I tighten my grip on his collar, my eyes boring into his. “Where. Is. She?”

The man swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he tries to draw breath. When he doesn’t respond, I press my hand over his wound, pushing down roughly. He gives another hoarse scream.

“Aaaaaah! Poshel na khuy, Vyronov! Fuck you and your little Bratva!”

“You are going to die, pizda,” I roar. “You know it, and I know it!” I glance down at where blood is pulsing past my hand and then meet his eyes again. “The question is; will your death be fast and painless,” I press down again, “or slow and painful?”

He’s panting against the burgeoning pain, and then finally, he relents. “Petrov… has… another safehouse. She was taken there,” he says, his voice shaking. “He knows you are coming.”

Lucky for us, we hardly suffered any losses. But the bastard isn’t giving me anything I haven’t figured out already.

“Where?” I demand, giving him a shake.

He jerks, gasping for breath. “I… don’t… know! I swear! He only tells us… what we need… to know!”

I stare into his eyes for a moment, watching as the fight fades from them.

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