Page 92 of Ruthless Daddies

I catch Dmitri’s expression in the rearview mirror—a faint flicker of surprise, or maybe realization.

He breaks the silence. “So you love her,” he says, not a question but a statement, his tone oddly calm.

Ivan’s shoulders straighten. “Does it matter? She’s a risk.” His grip on the wheel is iron. “And let’s not pretend you don’t feel the same.”

Dmitri’s mouth quirks, but not into a smile.

We pull up to the estate in a swirl of dust, the car lurching to a stop before Ivan even turns off the engine.

I’m barely two steps from the car when Sergei comes stumbling toward us, one hand clutching his head, blood seeping through his fingers. He looks panicked, like a cornered animal.

“Sergei,” Ivan calls, striding forward. “What the hell happened?”

Sergei wobbles, and I grab his arm to steady him. His eyes are wide, darting between me, Ivan, and Dmitri. “She’s gone,” he gasps, his voice shaky. “Alice is gone.”

My heart thunders against my ribs.Gone?That single word knocks the air right out of me.

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” I demand, trying to ignore the cold panic clawing at my stomach. “She can’t just—did she leave on her own?”

Sergei’s blood-spattered hand trembles. “I don’t know,” he manages, his voice hoarse. “I was in the hallway, and someone hit me from behind. Next thing I remember, I woke up, and she…she wasn’t in her room. The door was open, stuff scattered.”

A flicker of suspicion sparks in my mind. Sergei was the one who found her missing, and now he’s conveniently injured. I exchange a quick glance with Ivan. His mouth twists, a silent acknowledgment that we’re both thinking the same thing. Alice once accused Sergei of hiding something, and now this?

Dmitri helps Sergei stand upright, pressing a hand to the back of his head. “You’re bleeding pretty bad. We need to get you to a doctor.”

Sergei winces, shaking his head slightly, then grimaces in pain. “I’m fine,” he insists, though his voice wavers. “I just need to?—”

“Shut up,” Dmitri cuts him off, not unkindly. “Let the doc have a look. Then you can give us the rest of the story.”

I glance over Sergei’s shoulder, trying to see if anything else is amiss. The front foyer is empty, and the house beyond it looks still. No sign of a struggle except for the blood on Sergei’s hand. No sign of Alice. My pulse kicks up another notch.

Ivan shifts, his posture rigid as he studies Sergei. “Why were you near Alice’s room?” he asks, voice cold.

Sergei’s gaze flicks to him, then back to me and Dmitri. “I was just…passing by. Checking on the staff, making my rounds.”

Could it be that someone really attacked Sergei and took Alice? Or is he covering his own tracks? A part of me curses myself forthe suspicion, but I can’t shake it. Alice warned us about him, tried to tell us he might be involved somehow.

Ivan, jaw tight, gestures for us to move inside. “Let’s get him patched up,” he mutters, already storming toward the entrance.

If Alice has been taken—or if she ran—where would she go? She told us she wanted to leave, but would she go so far as to disappear? My gut twists at the idea that she might be in danger because ofourdecision to send her away.

As we head into the foyer, Marta appears, her face pale. She takes one look at Sergei’s bleeding head and covers her mouth. “What happened?”

Ivan waves her off. “We don’t know yet. Sergei was knocked out. Alice is missing.”

Her eyes widen, and she glances at me, then Dmitri. “Missing?”

“Stay with him,” Dmitri orders, easing Sergei onto a nearby chair. “Try to stop the bleeding. We’ll call the doctor.”

I’m already stepping back, my chest tight with worry. My eyes flick to Ivan, whose face is set in grim determination. “Nikolai,” he says quietly, “check her room. See if there’s any sign of where she might’ve gone.”

I’m about to move when Dmitri steps forward, slipping his phone from his pocket with a casualness that makes my skin crawl. “No need,” he says, not even bothering to look at Sergei. “I already have her location.”

Ivan and I both pause, trading a look that’s half confusion, half disbelief. “What do you mean youhaveher location?” I demand, my heart pounding.

Dmitri offers a faint, unapologetic shrug. “I put a tracker on her the day I met her at the club.”

Ivan’s eyes narrow, impatience clear in his tight jaw. He doesn’t even bother to question it further, just snaps, “Then track her.Now.”

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