Page 5 of Beautiful Agony

But if I don't...

I close my eyes, but all I hear is the giddiness in Sayanaa's voice on the phone. The things Iknowshe's capable of doing to Lacey and Serena...

The choice tears at me. What matters more—my crusade against evil, or the lives of the two women I'm meant to protect?

What kind of pakhan sacrifices his own wife and sister?

But what kind of man lets innocent women continue suffering just to save two lives?

The tracking window flashes red on my screen, and my heart nearly stops.

Coordinates found.

That psychotic bitch was so caught up in gloating, she didn't realize the trace completed while she was gloating. The map shows movement heading south from the Seattle docks towards Tacoma.

A savage satisfaction courses through my veins. For the first time tonight, something's gone right.

I dial Demyon's number, and he picks up on the first ring.

"Get every boeviki you can find," I command before he can speak. "Olga betrayed us. She handed Lacey and my sister to Sayanaa."

"Yourwhat?"

"I'll explain later. Right now, I need two teams. Send one to the docks—kill any of Kirsan's men still lingering there and pick up anything out of place. The other meets me on the road. I'm going after that crazy bitch myself."

"Understood." Demyon's voice shifts to pure business. "How many men?"

"As many as you can get. I want overwhelming force." My fingers trace Lacey's bite marks. "And Demyon? Tell them no mercy tonight. Every one of Kirsan's men they find is dead."

"Consider it done." He pauses.

I hang up and grab my keys, checking my weapon as I head for the garage. Sayanaa wants to play games? Fine.

I'm going to teach her that there are real fucking consequences for losing.

2

LACEY

The container lurchesand my stomach drops as gravity shifts. Several women scream around me, their cries echoing off the metal walls. My hand instinctively goes to my throat, seeking the familiar comfort of Mom's necklace, but finds only bruised flesh. The loss hits me harder than the container's movement—another piece of Mom, gone forever under Sayanaa's heel.

A fan sputters to life somewhere above. The weak light filtering through its grate reveals what I couldn't see before: bodies. So many bodies. At least thirty women pressed together in this metal prison, their faces etched with terror and despair.

But one face catches my attention—those storm-gray eyes, that particular shade of blonde hair. She can't be more than sixteen, but the resemblance is unmistakable. My heart pounds as I make my way toward her through the press of bodies.

"Your mother," I whisper, careful to keep my voice down. "Is her name Polina?"

The girl's eyes widen. "How do you?—"

"I know your brother. Vadim."

She studies my face, wariness warring with desperate hope. "Brother?"

"Yes. What's your name?"

"Serena," she whispers back. "Serena Chambers."

"How did they get you?" I whisper to Serena, needing to understand.

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