Page 82 of Dangerous Devotion

“Isabella,” Ivan Zotov said.

And I went completely still and stared at him, standing across the office next to my father’s dead body.

I struggled to process his words and make sense of them in my mind. “You want Isabella?”

He nodded.

“Are you fucking insane?”

Zotov’s face remained impassive, his eyes cold and calculating. “It’s a simple trade, Salvini. Your cooperation and Isabella for the other women.”

I clenched my fist, itching to connect it with his jaw. “Absolutely not. Isabella isn’t some bargaining chip, you sick bastard. She’s my sister. Why on earth would you ever think I’d agree to something like this?”

“And yet, here you are, desperate enough to listen to me and in no real position to put in a counteroffer,” Zotov replied,his lips curling into a smirk. “I got you by the balls, Salvini. And you fucking know it.”

My stomach hardened, and I glared at him. He was right, and I hated him for it. I was desperate. The women were out there somewhere, possibly in danger, and I was completely out of options. The weight of my failure pressed down on me, threatening to crush what little sanity I had left.

“What exactly do you want with Isabella?” I growled, buying time as I tried to think of a way out of this mess. What did I have that Zotov wanted?

Zotov shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “That’s between me and her. All you need to know is that I’m holding all the cards, and I’m your only option to see your wife again.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the display. Hawk’s name was on the screen. Did that mean they were all recovered? I accepted the call and focused back on Zotov. “What?”

Hawk’s voice came through, urgent and clear. “Birdie escaped. We’ve got the location. We’ll be there in 30.”

My heart raced as hope surged through me. Without uttering a word, I handed the phone to Hero and turned back to Zotov.

Got you, asshole.

I stared at him, my face a mask of indifference despite the turmoil raging inside me. I needed to keep him talking, to buy time until Hawk and the team arrived. While every fiber inside of me wanted to kill the bastard.

I forced myself to keep my face relaxed and to remain calm.”Why should I believe you even have the girls?” I asked, my voice low and controlled. “For all I know, you’re bluffing,using the information you gained by eavesdropping on the conversation with my father.”

Zotov’s lips curled into a smirk. Without breaking eye contact, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek metal phone. His fingers danced across the screen for a moment before he turned it towards me.

My heart stopped as a video of Jemma appeared on the screen. She was in a stark, white room, her hands running along the featureless walls. Her face was a mixture of confusion and fear.

“Before you ask, this is a live-stream,” Zotov said.

It took every ounce of self-control not to react visibly. Adrenaline rushed through my body, and it took all my might to suppress the rage boiling inside of me, threatening to explode any second.

I focused on Jemma. She looked unharmed, a little scared, but otherwise okay. My chest tightened. I wanted nothing more than to reach through the screen and pull her into my arms and into safety.

I looked up at Zotov. Alternatively, I would be satisfied with tearing him apart with my bare hands for daring to touch her.

I took a measured exhale and held myself straight but relaxed. I couldn’t let him see how much this affected me, how he’d found my weak spot and hit me right where it hurt the most.

I kept my expression neutral and loosened my jaw and fists. “Interesting,” I said, my voice betraying nothing of the fury I felt.

Zotov turned back the phone, his thumb brushing over the screen before he slipped it into his pocket.

The image of Jemma, alone and scared in that white room, would forever remain burned on my mind. I pushed down the urge to place my hands around his neck and slowly watch how the life got squeezed out of him.

Fuck. Now wasn’t the time to lose control.

“In what way do you want my cooperation?” I asked, keeping my voice level. I needed to understand his game, to find any weakness I could exploit. I underestimated Zotov—something that couldn’t happen again.

Zotov met my eyes, the cold calculation in his making them gleam like steel. “That depends on how much you value your wife and sisters,” he replied smoothly.

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