Page 40 of Between Power and Passion

The first guard comes into view beneath me. Without hesitation, I drop down, landing behind him silently. My knife flashes in the moonlight as I draw it across his throat in one swift motion. He gurgles before collapsing, blood pooling around him.

I wipe the blade clean on his uniform and look up to see Alexei dispatching the second guard with similar precision. We exchange a brief nod before pressing forward.

The mansion looms ahead, its grandeur overshadowed by the grim purpose of our visit. We split into two groups; Alexei takes one side while I lead the other toward the main entrance. The plan is clear: Take out any resistance quickly and quietly.

A guard rounds the corner ahead of me. I press my back against the cold stone wall, waiting for him to come closer. When he’s within reach, I spring forward, covering his mouth with one hand while driving my knife into his side with the other. His body goes limp almost immediately.

We continue moving through the shadows, each step bringing us closer to Sergei. My mind flickers to Valentina for a brief moment—her safety, her future—then I force myself back to focus. Distraction could be fatal.

At the side entrance now, Alexei signals again. His team takes out another pair of guards near a garden fountain without making a sound. We converge at the door; it’s locked but nothing Alexei can’t handle with his set of tools.

I keep watch as he works on the lock. My heart pounds in my chest—not from fear but from anticipation. The door clicks open softly, and we slip inside like whispers on the wind.

The interior is lavish but dark; only minimal lighting casts eerie shadows along ornate hallways. We navigate them with ruthless efficiency, taking out any guards who cross our path without breaking stride.

Every takedown is methodical: a quick twist of a neck here, a silenced gunshot there.

Finally, we reach the grand staircase leading up to Sergei’s private quarters. We regroup at its base. Alexei's eyes meet mine, and we ascend silently, like predators stalking their prey in an unforgiving jungle.

This ends here tonight.

I hold up a hand to Alexei. "Stay back. Activate Plan B if I don't get back to you in 30 minutes," I whisper.

Alexei nods, and I move forward alone. Every step I take seems to echo in the silence. My gun is drawn, its weight familiar and comforting in my grip. The opulent double doors of Sergei’s office loom ahead. I kick them open with a force that sends them crashing against the walls.

Sergei sits behind his massive desk, unruffled by my dramatic entrance. His hard brown eyes lock onto mine, and a smug smile curls on his lips. He knew I was coming.

"Ah, Dmitri," he says, clapping slowly. The sound reverberates off the high ceilings and marble floors. "I never thought you’d grow balls big enough to face me. You were such a lanky boy back then."

I don’t lower my gun. My finger tightens on the trigger as I take in his mocking tone, the way he leans back in his leather chair with infuriating ease.

Sergei continues, his voice dripping with false praise. "You’ve done well for yourself. Your father would be proud."

The mention of my father snaps something inside me. My vision narrows, focused solely on Sergei’s smug face. "Don’t you dare say his name," I growl.

Sergei raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Or what?"

I feel a tremor run through me—not of fear but of barely restrained rage.

Sergei’s smirk deepens as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "You should have guarded your own house better, Dmitri," he says, his tone casual, almost bored.

The words hit me like a sledgehammer. My mind races, piecing together what he’s implying. I grit my teeth. The grip on my gun tightens until my knuckles turn white. "What did you do?" My voice is a low growl, barely restrained.

Sergei shrugs, looking almost amused by my reaction. "Oh, just a little payback. You’ve been quite the thorn in my side, you know."

My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing with fear and rage. "Where is she?" I demand, stepping closer to his desk. The barrel of my gun points directly at his head now.

He tilts his head, a mock expression of thoughtfulness crossing his face. "She? You’ll have to be more specific, Dmitri. I have so many people under my thumb."

"Don’t play games with me!" I shout, the sound bouncing off the walls. "Where is Valentina?"

Sergei’s calm demeanor remains infuriatingly intact. He steeples his fingers together and looks up at me with those cold, calculating eyes. "Valentina... Ah yes, your little distraction." He sighs theatrically. "My daughter is such a pretty thing. I can see why you’re so attached."

I take another step forward, pressing the gun against his forehead now. My hand shakes with the effort to hold back from pulling the trigger right then and there. "If you’ve hurt her—"

He cuts me off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Relax, Dmitri. She’s quite safe... for now."

My blood boils. I want to slam him against the wall, make him feel every ounce of pain and fear he’s caused Valentina and me. But I need answers first.

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