Page 40 of The Bratva Queens' Kings

But reality waits for no one, not even for two people stealing moments of peace in a chaotic world. With a deep breath, I slide off the stretcher, my movements slow, not quite ready to let go of the tranquility we've found here. Luca extends his hand, a silent offer of support I take without a second thought.

Together, we leave the hospital room, stepping out into the corridor that's suddenly too bright, too real. The sounds of the hospital—footsteps, distant conversations, the occasional beep of machinery—filter back in, pulling us further from our secluded haven.

However, as I start the process, a sudden realization slices through the fog of contentment: Julia is missing.

Panic, a cold and unwelcome guest, begins to coil in my stomach. I call her, once, twice, thrice, each attempt met with the deafening silence of an unanswered ring. My concern deepens, morphing into fear with each passing second.

That's when I see it: Julia's handbag, discarded carelessly on the floor in a quiet corner of the hallway. My heart skips a beat. Julia, with her meticulous ways and guarded nature, would never leave her belongings unattended without cause. Something is wrong, very wrong.

Approaching the bag, I notice it's not just abandoned but seemingly ransacked, its contents strewn about. The sight sends a shiver down my spine, a primal alarm that something sinister is at play. Lipstick, keys, a small notebook—each item a fragment of Julia, left behind like a macabre trail of breadcrumbs.

I follow the trail, my steps quickening as the dread builds, each item discarded on the floor amplifying my fear. The path leads me to an emergency exit, the door ajar, an ominous invitation to step into the unknown.

My heart pounds against my ribs, a relentless drum of war as I push the door open, the cool rush of outside air hitting my face. The threshold crosses, I step into the dimly lit alleyway, the hospital's fluorescent brightness giving way to shadows that twist and stretch with a life of their own.

The alley is silent, the kind of silence that screams danger, that heightens every sense to the brink of madness. I pause, listening, straining my ears for any sound that might indicate where Julia—or whoever took her—might have gone.

My eyes catch on a piece of paper, stark against the grimy alley floor—a ransom note. The dread that's been tightening its grip on my chest now explodes into full-blown terror. I snatch up the note, my hands trembling as I unfold it. The message is cut from various magazines, a cliché pulled straight from a thriller, but its contents send a chill down my spine.

"We have her. If you want to see her again, come alone. No police."

Chapter 20

Luca

In the dim light of the safe house, the tension is a living, breathing thing, thick enough to cut with a knife. I'm pacing, every muscle coiled tight, ready to spring. The ransom note in my hand feels like a ticking bomb, the words a clear threat to Julia's safety. Grigori's at the window, eyes scanning the perimeter, while Lana's perched on the edge of her seat, a storm of emotions playing across her face.

Grigori breaks the silence, his voice steady but underlined with urgency. "How are we going to find Julia?"

"The note was clear. They want us to go get her," I snap, the pieces clicking into place with a clarity that does nothing to ease the knot in my stomach.

Lana's voice, when she speaks, is laced with fear and conviction. "It's Roman... It has to be him."

Grigori turns, fixing her with a look that's part disbelief, part frustration. "Lana, you're acting like you don't know Roman your whole life."

"And you did?" Lana fires back, her voice rising. "Suddenly there's a transaction to Roman's account by Perez, then the next week I'm being assassinated by Twitch, mind you, Roman brought him here when he was fucking 11. And they took Julia, knowing damn well how much I care about her, and you're still trying to tell me it's not Roman behind all of this?"

The room falls silent, the weight of Lana's words hanging heavy between us. I can see the gears turning in Grigori's head, the conflict clear in his eyes. He's known Roman as long as any of us, the idea that he could betray us this deeply is a bitter pill to swallow.

I step closer, placing the note on the table where we can all see it. "We're wasting time. Whoever did this, Roman or not, they have Julia. And we're playing right into their hands with this infighting."

Lana nods, the fight draining out of her as the reality of the situation sets back in. "What's the plan, then?"

"Julia's phone. We need to track it. There has to be a reason they left it behind," I say, the idea hitting me like a bolt of lightning. This isn't just about leaving a trail; it's a message, a game to them. But they've played it with the wrong people.

Lana's eyes meet mine, the urgency clear. "Go. And do it fast."

I'm in motion before she finishes speaking, my steps quick and purposeful as I make my way to the tech room. Our tech setup is a beast, born out of necessity in a world that's always trying to outmaneuver us. We've got gear and software that could make government agencies green with envy, all to ensure we're never caught off guard.

Barging into the tech room, I lay down our mission without any fluff. "We need to track Julia's phone. Find the last call, anything that leads us to her."

The team gets to work immediately, their fingers a blur over keyboards as they navigate the digital labyrinth with a skill that borders on the supernatural. I hover in the background, every muscle tensed, every sense honed on the task at hand. Julia's safety is the prize, and every ticking second she's not found is a mark against us.

Then Lana bursts in, a whirlwind of fear and command. "Did you find anything? How long will this take?"

The team doesn't falter, accustomed to the pressure, but the air tightens with her presence. "Working on it," one of the techs replies, their focus unwavering.

Lana paces, a caged tiger. "Speed it up. We don't have time to waste." Her eyes dart to the screens, to me, a silent plea beneath the veneer of strength.

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