Page 8 of Kidnapped By the Bratva

We end the call, and I set the phone down, staring at it for a moment before pushing back from the desk. The rage is still there, pulsing under the surface, but I know what needs to be done. This won’t be quick, and it won’t be clean. It’ll take time, patience, and strategy.

I head toward the window, looking out over the city. New York is sprawling and chaotic, just like the man who runs its underground. Kace Preston has built his empire, but empires crumble when you hit them in the right spot.

My mind races with possibilities, each one more satisfying than the last. I’ll find his weaknesses, his soft spots, and when I do, I’ll exploit them until there’s nothing left.

For now, I wait. I bide my time.

Just then, Artem knocks on the door and steps inside, his presence always quiet yet reassuring. “Everything good, Boss?”

I turn to face him, nodding. “Henry gave me what we needed. Kace is responsible for my father’s death.”

Artem’s jaw tightens, but he stays silent, waiting for my next words. “We’re going to play this smart. Gather everything we can about Kace and his operations. No sudden moves. Not yet.”

Artem nods, understanding without needing more explanation. He’s always been steady like that—knowing when to push and when to wait.

“Get the word out to our people,” I say, my voice steady. “I want eyes on every move Kace makes. I want to know his routine, who he’s meeting, where his weak points are.”

Artem gives a small nod of respect. “Got it.”

He leaves the room, and I lean back against the desk, staring out into the city again. Kace doesn’t know it yet, but his time is coming. Every move he makes from now on is a step closer to his end.

I can wait. I’ve been waiting for months, and I’ll wait as long as it takes.

Because when I finally make my move, Kace Preston will wish he’d never crossed the Sharovs.

Chapter Four - Sophia

I toss another dress into my suitcase, balancing my phone between my ear and shoulder as Jennifer’s voice fills the room. She’s been going on about our weekend getaway to Greece for the past twenty minutes, and I can’t help but smile at how excited she is.

“I’m telling you, Sophia, this trip is exactly what you need. Sun, beaches, and maybe a little something extra.” Her voice drops suggestively, and I roll my eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Jennifer,” I chuckle, pulling a few more items out of my closet. “It’s a trip to relax, not to—”

“Not towhat? Get down and dirty?” she interrupts, laughing. “Come on, girl. You’ve been waiting for the right guy for, like, forever. Don’t you think it’s time to just… have a little fun?”

I smirk, shaking my head at her bluntness. “Maybe,” I say, a little teasingly. “Waiting for the right guy is just taking too long, anyway.”

“Exactly! Greece is the perfect place for a little fling. Who knows? You might meet some sexy Greek god who’ll make you forget all about waiting for Mr. Perfect.”

I can hear the grin in her voice, and it’s infectious. “Yeah, right,” I laugh. “We’ll see. I’ll probably end up just sunbathing the whole time.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Jennifer teases. “I’m serious, though, Sophia. You deserve to let loose for once. I mean, when’s the last time you did anything remotely reckless?”

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, there’s a soft knock on the door. I glance up as the housemaid, Anna, enters, her eyes landing on the open suitcase with a concerned look.

“Hold on a sec,” I tell Jennifer, pulling the phone away from my ear. “What’s wrong, Anna?”

Anna hesitates, her hands clasped nervously in front of her apron. “Miss Preston, what is all this?” she asks, gesturing toward the suitcase. “Are you going somewhere?”

I smile, waving off her concern. “Yeah, I’m going on a trip to Greece this weekend with Jennifer.”

Anna’s lips press into a thin line, and she clears her throat before speaking again. “Mr. Preston wanted me to let you know that you should keep your schedule clear for this coming weekend.”

I raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Why, what’s going on?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Anna replies, her voice careful. “I believe it’s related to the Millers. Mr. Preston mentioned that you’d be meeting Jackson Miller over the weekend.”

My stomach drops at her words, and I feel my jaw slacken in disbelief. Meeting Jackson Miller? There’s only one reason why my father would set up a meeting like this, and the realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

---