FORTY-SEVEN
NIKOLAI
We parkthe Humvee in the shadows of a crumbling overpass. Roman and I sit in the back, the drone monitor balanced on the center console between us. The live feed flickers to life as Vadim maneuvers the controls, the camera sweeping across the desolate area.
I take a swig of water, the tactical gear hot against my skin. My shoulder is throbbing, but that’s the least of my concerns. I’ve never felt this restless or angry, this ready to do unthinkable violence. Maybe Roman senses my intensity because his look reminds me to stay calm. We can’t lose our minds now.
The drone’s camera pans slowly over the industrial wasteland. Rusted warehouses, stacks of shipping containers, and abandoned equipment fill the screen, their shadows stretching long under the moonlight. My fingers curl into my palms as I focus on the monitor showing another row of empty warehouses.
Roman exhales, breaking the quiet. “We’re looking for a needle in a fucking haystack.”
“We’re looking for movement,” Vadim says without turning around. “Anything that seems out of place.”
I lean forward, gripping the back of the passenger seat. My eyes burn from staring at the feed, but I can’t look away.
“If they’re inside a building, we’re shit out of luck,” Pavel mumbles.
“Maybe, but in a place like this, any activity could be a sign,” I tell him. “Footprints, vehicles, even a light turned on.”
Eva’s voice crackles over the radio from the vehicle behind us. “Anything?”
“Nothing yet,” Vadim replies, his tone grim.
Vadim tilts the drone’s camera over a cluster of shipping containers.
Every second we sit here, my mind whirrs with worst-case scenarios. Helplessness claws at me. She’s with that fucking monster, and I know what he’s capable of. It chills my blood.
Movement on the screen catches my attention. I blink. “Wait—what was that?”
Vadim glances back. “What?”
“I saw something, a flash of movement.”
The others squint at the feed, but whatever I saw is gone. The drone hovers above an open stretch of cracked pavement between the maze of shipping containers.
Roman shakes his head after a minute. “I don’t see anything.”
I rub the back of my neck, a knot of tension growing. “Maybe it was my imagination,” I mutter. Fuck, am I losing it?
I crack my knuckles, forcing myself to take steady breaths. If we don’t find her soon, I’ll have to do the unthinkable—sign the casino contract and hand over my legitimate businesses to Igor. It’s everything I’ve built, my foothold in a world beyond the bratva, but for Sofiya, I would give it all up.
Still, Igor can’t be trusted. Even if we give him what he wants, there’s no guarantee he’ll return her. But if we can’t find her ourselves, what other option do I have?
Vadim tilts the drone to scan another angle, and then it happens again—I see a flicker of movement. Every muscle in my body tenses.
“There.” I point at the screen.
This time, everyone sees it. Vadim narrows his eyes. “Hold on.” He moves the drone lower, carefully maneuvering it toward the source. The night-vision camera isn’t great, the grainy feed flickering as shadows stretch across the screen.
“Come on,” Roman mutters, his voice tight.
When the image sharpens, I exhale, the blood draining from my face.
It’s Sofiya.
Her arms are tied behind her back, and she’s moving, running barefoot between the rows of containers. She darts around a corner, moving fast like her life depends on it. Shit. It probably does.
“What the fuck is going on?” Pavel mutters.