Page 41 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

That small movement breaks the spell. Zara's eyes snap to mine, filled with a primal fear that cuts me to the core. Before I can say another word, she spins on her heel and bolts.

"Zara, wait!" I call out, but she's already gone, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

I curse under my breath, my mind racing. How did she find me here? How could I have been so careless? The panic in her eyes haunts me, spurring me into action.

The pliers slip from my fingers, clattering to the floor. I barely register Vladimir's confused shout as I sprint after Zara, my heart pounding in my chest. The hallway stretches before me, endless and accusing.

"Damn it," I mutter, pushing my legs harder. I can't let her go, not like this. Not when she's seen… God, what has she seen?

I have to catch her, to explain, to make her understand. But even as I move to follow, a part of me knows it's too late. The innocence in her eyes is gone, replaced by a knowledge that can never be unlearned. And I'm the one who stole it from her.

I burst through the front doors, the cool night air hitting my face. My eyes scan the parking lot frantically, searching for any sign of her. There—a flash of golden hair in the dim streetlight. She's running toward her beaten-up Honda, fumbling to find her keys in her bag.

"Zara, please! Let me explain!" I call out desperately, my voice echoing in the empty lot. She freezes for a split second but never turns. She keeps running ahead.

I’m about to break into a jog after her when I’m momentarily distracted by the sudden screech of tires. My head whips left to see a black van careening into the parking lot, its headlights off. It comes to an abrupt stop just feet away from Zara, the side door already sliding open.

"What the hell?" I mutter, my body tensing instinctively. This isn't right. This isn't part of any plan I know.

Before I can react, two masked figures leap from the van. They move with practiced efficiency, grabbing Zara roughly by her arms. Her scream pierces the night air.

"Zara!" I roar, lunging forward. But it's like I'm moving through molasses, every step too slow, too late. "Zara!"

I watch in helpless horror as they shove her into the van. Her wide, terrified eyes lock with mine for a split second before the door slams shut. The van's tires squeal as it peels away, leaving nothing but the acrid smell of burnt rubber.

"ZARA!" I scream again, my voice raw with desperation. But it's futile. The van disappears into the night, taking her with it. Taking my heart with it.

I stand there, chest heaving, fists clenched at my sides. "Fuck," I growl, running a hand through my hair. She’s been kidnapped. My mind races. Who took her? Why?

I burst back into the warehouse, my heart pounding like a war drum. Vladimir's there, still torturing the traitor.

He turns when I slam open the door.

"Call Denis and Mark. Now," I bark. "We've got a situation."

Vladimir eyes me warily. "What's going on, Brother? Where’s Zara"

"Someone took her," I spit out, pacing like a caged animal. "Some fuckers just snatched Zara off the street. We need all hands on deck."

I toss him my phone, my fingers itching for action. "Get our brothers here. Then, call Yuri and tell him to get the tech team working on the CCTV feeds along the streets. Hack them now. I want eyes on that van yesterday."

Vladimir fumbles with the phone, his fingers flying over the screen. "On it. But who would—"

"I don't know," I cut him off, my voice razor-sharp. "But they're going to regret ever laying hands on her."

The next few minutes are a blur of activity. I bark orders into my spare burner phone, mobilizing every resource at my disposal. My mind races, considering and discarding possibilities. Who would dare cross me like this?

Vladimir's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Tech team's on it. They're accessing the street cameras now."

I nod, logging into the feed link. The screen flickers to life, showing a grid of grainy street views. My eyes scan frantically, searching for any sign of that damn van.

"There!" I point, spotting a blur of motion in the bottom right corner. "Track it."

Vladimir delivers the message.

The image zooms in, following the van as it weaves through traffic. My fists clench at my sides, impotent rage building with each second that passes.

"Come on, come on," I mutter, willing the van to reveal its destination. Every moment feels like an eternity, knowing Zara's in there, terrified and alone.

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