Page 93 of Ruthless Daddies

Dmitri taps at his phone, the flicker of the screen reflecting in his eyes. A silent moment drags out, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. “That’s odd,” he mutters finally, frowning as he checks whatever app he’s using. “She’s at one of our abandoned warehouses.”

I exchange a quick look with Ivan, dread coiling in my gut.

There’s no way she would be there by choice.

I step closer, trying to get a look at the map on his phone. “Which one?”

Dmitri rattles off the location, and my stomach tightens. It’s on the outskirts of the city, a place we haven’t used in years. The fact that Alice is there—alone, from the looks of it—sends alarm bells ringing in my head.

“We need to go,” I say firmly, already turning to head for the car.

Ivan nods, his expression grim. “Now.”

As we move, Marta steps into the hallway, her face unusually pale. “Marta,” Ivan says. “Keep the children inside their rooms. I’ll post a few men outside. They shouldn’t come out before we return.”

“What’s going on?” she asks, her eyes darting between us and Sergei, who’s still slumped in the chair.

“Stay out of this,” Ivan snaps, but Marta steps forward, her hands clasped tightly together. She looks more worried than I’ve ever seen her.

“You need to hurry,” she blurts out, her voice trembling. “Alice is—” She stops herself, but the words are already out. “Alice is pregnant.”

The air shifts like a bomb just went off. Dmitri freezes mid-step, his gaze snapping to Marta, then to me. Ivan turns slowly, his face darkening with an unreadable expression.

“What did you just say?” I demand, my heart pounding.

Marta looks like she regrets speaking, but there’s no going back now. “She’s pregnant,” she repeats, more quietly this time. “She found out recently. I—I didn’t want to tell you like this, but if she’s in danger, you need to know.”

Pregnant.

Fucking hell.

The drive to the warehouse is tense, each of us lost in our own thoughts after Marta’s bombshell. Alice ispregnant. The shock still reverberates through me, but there’s no time to process it. Ivan’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his eyes cold and fixed on the road. Dmitri is silent, his jaw tight, already anticipating a fight.

By the time we arrive, dusk has fallen, blanketing the area in an eerie half-light. The warehouse looms ahead, its corrugated metal walls rusted and peeling, casting long shadows across the cracked concrete lot.

The place is deathly quiet. Too quiet.

We step out of the car, the crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound. Ivan draws his gun, and we follow suit.

The warehouse is massive, its metal doors hanging slightly ajar. Rust stains streak the walls, and shattered windows cast jagged reflections in the fading light. The smell of damp and decay fills the air, making my stomach churn.

We step inside, the floor creaking beneath our boots. The interior is a maze of rusted machinery, stacks of broken pallets, and abandoned crates. There’s no one here.

“Stick together,” Ivan murmurs.

“We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” Dmitri says. “Call if you find her.”

Ivan hesitates, then nods reluctantly. Dmitri veers left, Ivan takes the central path, and I head right, the air growing colder as I move deeper into the building.

I grip my gun tighter, my eyes scanning every shadow. My flashlight sweeps over graffiti-covered walls, pools of stagnant water, and shards of glass that glitter like ice. The silence is unnerving, broken only by the distant creak of metal and the occasional drip of water.

Then I hear it—a faint sound, muffled and desperate.

It leads me to a heavy door, slightly ajar, the hinges rusted and barely holding on. I push it open cautiously, my flashlight cutting through the darkness.

“Alice,” I breathe, my voice barely audible.

She’s there, tied to a chair in the center of the room. Her head snaps up, her wide eyes locking onto mine. Her face is pale,streaked with sweat and grime, and her mouth is gagged. The sight of her bound and helpless sends a surge of rage through me.

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