Page 44 of The Bratva Queens' Kings

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "On my count, then. Three... two... one... mark."

The silence that follows is deafening, a held breath in the night. Then, distantly, the muffled sounds of chaos erupt.

Chapter 22

Grigori

Storming the building, the last thing I expect is to walk into a damn free-for-all. Perez and his goons are already at it with another faction. Chaos, the kind I usually like, but not when I've got bigger fish to fry.

"Grigori, report," Lana's voice crackles through the intercom, sharp, cutting through the noise.

"Walked into a damn party," I grunt, stepping aside as a stray bullet embeds itself into the wall where my head was seconds ago. "Perez is busy tearing his own place apart."

"Get out of there, let them thin their own ranks," she orders. Makes sense. Why dirty our hands more than we need to?

Directing the men with a jerk of my head, we pull back, skirting the edges of the melee. Every man for himself in there, and while it's tempting to jump in, Lana's right. We've got a different mission.

The chaos behind us, my focus narrows to the task at hand. "Holding position. Let me know when to move in," I say, eyes scanning for any opportunity, any weakness we can exploit.

Lana's voice is a steady beacon. "Stay safe. We need you back in one piece."

A smirk tugs at my lips. "Was planning on it." Because when this is over, I've got a certain someone who owes me a rematch. And I intend to collect.

Positioned just outside the chaos, we find ourselves in the dimly lit corridor of what looks like a dilapidated warehouse turned into Perez's makeshift fortress. The sounds of gunfire and shouts from within suggest we've stumbled upon a power struggle, factions within tearing each other apart. It was too easy getting in, and that gnaws at me. A setup? Or just dumb luck on our part?

"I've got a bad feeling about this," I mutter, eyes scanning for any sign of Julia in the pandemonium.

"Stay here with the others," I tell Luca, my decision made. The chaos inside could work to our advantage. "I'm going in to find Julia. It's too risky for all of us to storm in. We might spook them, and Julia's life is non-negotiable."

Luca grabs my arm, his concern blatant. "No, you cannot go there alone!"

"If something goes sideways, I'll buzz you all in through the intercom. It's better one of us sneaks in now while they're distracted," I argue, shaking off his grip. "It's our best shot at getting her out without turning this into a bloodbath."

Luca's frown deepens, the lines of his face hardening. "And what will Lana say about this?"

Before I can retort, Lana's voice cuts through the intercom, clear and commanding. "Guys, what's the situation?"

Locking eyes with Luca, my gaze tells him everything he needs to know—keep this between us. Lana doesn't need to know the plan's finer details; she wouldn't approve of me going solo. Understanding flickers in Luca's eyes, a silent vow of secrecy. "We're waiting," he says.

"Be safe," he adds, a rare slip into vulnerability.

"Always am," I shoot back with a half-grin. Then, turning away, I blend into the shadows, moving with the silent grace of a predator. The chaos inside masks my entrance, the uproar a perfect cover for a ghost like me.

Inside, the warehouse is a labyrinth, vast and dimly lit, with corridors branching off like veins. Julia could be anywhere, but experience narrows down the possibilities. There's one spot I zero in on immediately—a secluded room in the back, fortified and guarded. It's the place I'd choose if I were Perez, a spot secure enough to hold someone valuable, out of the immediate chaos but easily defended.

With no time to waste, I slip through the shadows, avoiding the ongoing conflict, my steps silent, my presence unnoticed. This part of the warehouse, away from the main fight, is quieter.

The door to the room I'm aiming for is exactly where I expected, heavy and reinforced, with two guards stationed outside. Typical Perez—paranoid to the core but predictably so.

Approaching the guards is all about timing and precision. They're tense, eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor, but their focus is outward, expecting threats from the chaos, not from the shadows behind them. Big mistake.

The first guard barely registers the silent threat before I'm on him. My arm snakes around his neck in a chokehold, cutting off his air. It's quick, efficient, leaving him no chance to sound an alarm. As he slumps to the ground, unconscious, I'm already moving to the second guard.

This one turns at the last moment a flicker of realization in his eyes before my fist connects with his jaw. The crack is satisfying. He stumbles back, dazed, and that's all the opening I need. A second hit, harder this time, and he's down, joining his buddy on the floor.

No noise, no mess. Just two guards taken out cleanly .I don't pause to check their condition; there's no need.

Slipping inside, the sight that greets me is worse than I imagined. Julia's there, looking every bit the captive she is—famished, dehydrated, the remnants of dried blood painting a grim picture on her face. She's tied to a chair, her body slumped in defeat. It's a sight that fuels a cold fire in my veins.

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