Page 87 of Night Shift

I shivered—not just from the cold but from the horror of this situation, the loss of life, and the ever-looming presence of the Volkovi Nochi. I was trapped. The shore was so close yet impossibly far.

I could only watch, numb and shaking, as the shadowy figures boarded the boat and approached me with a chilling precision. My body was rigid with fear, every shout and command from them tightening the noose of terror that choked my breath.

Seconds later, their savage hands were on me, dragging me back to the place I had so desperately hoped to escape.

Chapter twenty-four

Icouldn’t shake off the nagging worry about Samantha being alone at home as I clocked into my shift. It chewed at the back of my mind, relentless and distracting, even as the emergency department ran its usual marathon of chaos. The fact that I’d left her there didn’t sit well with me, but duty called—loudly.

The intensity of my routine was notched up when a pregnant woman, in the throes of full-blown labor, burst through the doors. Her screams of “The baby is coming!” sliced through everything else with razor-sharp urgency. It was like a slap to the face, snapping all my senses to high alert. All of my previous concerns were immediately shelved. “Atticus! We need you!” a nurse yelled over the commotion. Together, we rushed the laboring mother into the nearest room.

“No time to wait for an OB or midwife. This baby’s on a fast track out!” I said as we got the woman positioned on the bed. The delivery room became charged with energy, and we prepared ourselves to bring a new life into the world.

I stationed myself at the business end of this high-stakes operation and zeroed in on the emerging situation. The mother’s strained grunts and Lamaze breathing filled the air. “Almost there,” I encouraged, catching a glimpse of the baby’s head, crowning under the harsh fluorescent hospital lights.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as my hands worked to guide the newborn into the world. The tension spiked when I spotted the umbilical cord in a dangerous loop around the baby’s neck. My heart raced—not from panic but from a controlled rush of adrenaline. “Easy does it,” I said calmly to the mother, working to free the newborn from its entanglement. In a delicate dance of fingers and forceps, I gently unwrapped the cord without causing harm to either mother or child.

The moment the cord was clear and the baby slid free, the room shifted into a new kind of excitement—cries of relief from the mother, soft coos from the nurses, and the most important noise of all, the hearty wailing of a baby. It was the sound of victory, a cry that punched through the tension and signaled success.

Sweat cooled on my brow as I took a moment to marvel at the life we’d just ushered in under less than ideal circumstances. It was a moment of humanity in the sterile confines of the ED, a reminder of why I did this job.

My phone had buzzed over and over again in my pocket while I’d been elbows deep in the delivery. I’d been forced to ignore it until now. I yanked it out, and the screen lit up with a barrage of notifications—Samantha’s missed call, alerts from the security company, and a discombobulated text that hit me like a punch to the gut: Im hidig in you office A bnch guys breaking in Help! Following the text was a notification that she had started sharing her location with me.

It floored me that Samantha had had the presence of mind to share her location amidst the break-in. That was sharp—exactly the kind of quick thinking you’d hope for in a tight spot. It hammered home just how tenacious and smart she really was.

My blood boiled at the thought of her alone, cornered by thugs. My usual calm was nowhere in sight, replaced by a new surge of adrenaline, readying me for action.

The baby’s cries and the mother’s thankful sobs faded into the background. I now had a singular focus. Samantha was in danger, and I would stop at nothing to ensure her safety. My mind raced through the fastest routes home and the tools I had at my disposal. It hit me then with cold, hard clarity—I would, without hesitation, do whatever it took to protect her.

I flew out of the delivery room and quickly arranged coverage for the rest of my shift. Then I texted my brothers the basic details of the situation, telling them to meet me at my house. As I slid into my car, I called Colton. I had to gather my troops, make a plan, and go find those bastards and rip their heads off.

Within seconds, I was tearing through the streets, barely noticing the blare of horns and the flashes of red lights I left in my wake. As my Mercedes roared toward home, the phone auto-connected to the speakers. “Colton, my house, they’ve hit it,” I spat out the moment he answered.

“Atticus, I know. Got the alert and sent my guys straight over. They’re on it,” he calmly explained.

“Fuck, Colton, what happened with the security? We beefed it up for a reason. How did they get through?” My grip on the steering wheel tightened, and the tires screeched as I took another corner at a speed that flirted with disaster.

“They cut the power, Atticus. Not just to your place, but the whole damn neighborhood. Even hit your backup generator. This wasn’t amateur hour; it was professional, costly. Only someone with deep pockets and serious motivation could pull a stunt like this. This is high-level shit, man. Russian mob’s signature is all over it.”

“Christ, Colton. My place…what’s the destruction like?” I demanded, weaving through traffic like a madman, the roar of my anger drowning out the rational part of my brain that screamed for caution.

“My guys are there now, assessing and documenting the damage. This was a pro job. They knew exactly what they were doing. They weren’t just there to take Samantha. It’s a warning for you not to interfere.”

“Hmph, they don’t know me very well. I’m minutes away. Look for Braxton and Conan. They should be there soon. She shared her location with me, and it looks like they’re on the move. We’ve got to get going before they find her phone—or worse, get her on a plane!”

When I pulled up, Colton was waiting, his expression grim. The front door hung open. I stepped through the gaping hole and into my violated home. It lay in ruins. With every step I took, shattered glass crunched beneath my feet, and I had a flashback of Samantha’s apartment.

Colton led the way to my office. “I had my people hold off on calling the cops,” he said, scanning the wreckage. “Wanted you to see it first. The neighbors might’ve dialed nine-one-one though. So, I’m guessing we don’t have much time.”

The office was a disaster zone. The doorframe was splintered, and the fax machine’s handset dangled by its cord. “Look,” he said, nodding toward small blood spots on the wall. “We think it’s Samantha’s. I wanted you to see it first, but we gotta keep moving.”

A red haze descended. “I’ll kill them,” I seethed in a low growl.

Colton grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the back door. “This way, before the cops show and take over.”

Every broken and mangled piece of my home put more fuel on the inferno inside me. The back door, ripped from its frame, lay in pieces at my feet.

“This is where they came in,” Colton said, his voice cutting through the fog of my rage. “Professional job. No doubt about it.”

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