Page 59 of Dark Obsession

Alexei shrugs, stepping inside. "It’s what they do. They’re overprotective idiots. But they’re idiots who love you more than anything."

I soften a little at his words. "I’m scared, Alexei," I admit quietly. "I don’t want to lose him."

He nods, sitting down next to me. "I get it. But Grigori knows what he’s doing. He’s tough as hell, and he’s not going down without a fight."

I stare at him, chewing my bottom lip. "But what if they’re right? What if Grigori does need to do this on his own? What if me trying to help just makes things worse?"

Alexei’s smirk softens. "Our brothers are right about one thing—Grigori is a lone wolf. He’s got to take care of this by himself. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be there for him in other ways."

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Work from here," he says simply. "Do what you’re good at—hacking, finding intel. Keep your focus sharp. And keep him in your thoughts." He pauses, giving me a knowing look. "He cares about you. That’s clear as day."

I let his words sink in. Maybe Alexei’s right. I can work from here, keep an eye on the cartel’s movements, and pass along anyintel I come across. When Grigori finishes what he needs to do, I’ll be here. Waiting.

I sigh, leaning back against the headboard. "I hate feeling useless."

"You’re not useless," Alexei says, standing up and ruffling my hair. "You’re smart, stubborn, and helpful in your own way. Just give it time."

I laugh a little despite myself, swatting his hand away. "Thanks, Alexei."

He grins. "Don’t mention it. Just remember—this isn’t the end. It’s only a bump in the road."

After he leaves, I sit there, staring at my phone, wondering if Grigori will ever text back.

I grab my laptop, settling on my bed. If Grigori is going after Molina, I need to get more information. Maybe I can find something useful that will allow me to help him from here. I boot up my usual systems, hacking into a few of my favorite channels for intel.

First up, Claudio Sanchez. It doesn’t take long before I find what I’m looking for—FBI surveillance photos of Sanchez in New York City, timestamped from this afternoon.

I need to find the real prize, however. I need to find Molina. I dig deeper, trying to trace his movements, but things get murky. The usual sources aren’t pulling up anything recent on him, just old data. I keep digging, my frustration building, until I finally find a new set of surveillance photos from today.

My stomach drops. Molina isn’t in New York. He was last spotted right here in Chicago; I recognize the café in thebackground of the pictures.

Shit.

It only takes a second for everything to click into place. If Molina’s still in Chicago, Grigori could be walking straight into a trap. He thinks he’s going to take out the head of the cartel in New York, but the real danger is right here under our noses.

I’m already putting a plan together in my head. I can’t just sit here. If I stay cooped up in this mansion while Grigori’s out there facing God-knows-what, I’ll lose my mind.

I start packing a small bag, heart pounding.

I wait until it’s late, well after midnight, knowing the house will be quieter by then. I manage to sneak down the hallways without running into anyone. My brothers must be sleeping, or else they’d have guards stationed all over the place.

Perfect.

The cool night air hits my face when I step outside, making me feel more alive. I pull out my phone, quickly ordering an Uber. My heart races with excitement. This is it; I’m finally doing something.

The car pulls up and I move toward it, but just as I reach for the handle, I feel a sharp jab in the side of my neck.

Everything goes black.

When I come to, my head is throbbing.

My vision is blurry, but I can make out the inside of a van, cold and dark. I try to move, but my hands are tied behind my back; my legs are bound. Shit. Panic sets in as the reality of what just happened hits me—I’ve been kidnapped.

I blink hard, trying to shake off the grogginess. My heart races as I realize the van is moving. I try to focus, but everything feels hazy. My thoughts are spinning. How could I have been so stupid? I thought I was going to save Grigori, but here I am trussed up like a damn Thanksgiving turkey.

I desperately try to pull my hands free, but they’re bound too tight. More panic flares and I shift, trying to sit up. That’s when I hear low, gruff voices from the front of the van speaking in Spanish. The now-familiar dialect sends a chill through me.

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