Page 33 of His Grip

"Understood," Sergei crackled back, steady as always.

Viktor turned to Sofia, the faintest trace of concern creeping into his usually stoic expression. "Stay low. Stay quiet."

But Sofia didn’t answer. Instead, she moved forward, staying just a step behind him. She wasn’t going to listen to him. Viktor knew it, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her.

The warehouse was quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of their clothes and the distant hum of machinery. They approached the central room, where they expected Alexei to be holed up with Ivan. Viktor signaled for the team to take their places around the entrance, ready for the attack.

He paused, hand resting on the door handle. The nervousness inside him grew. He’d never been this close to failure, not with so much on the line. Not with Sofia in danger.

"Ready," Sergei came through again.

Viktor nodded, and without a word, he kicked the door open.

Chaos erupted instantly. Gunfire echoed through the room, and his team reacted with the precision of professionals. Sofia was beside him, her gun raised, though she wasn’t shooting—at least not yet. She moved with agility, ducking when necessary and firing into the fray to push back their attackers. Viktor could see there was no stopping this woman, and he admired her even more for it.

In the midst of the chaos, Viktor’s attention briefly wavered. That was all it took for him to notice something he hadn’t anticipated. Across the room, near the back, Andrei was whispering to Alexei. It was subtle, but Viktor caught the exchange. His mind raced, the implications already forming, but there was no time to act on them now.

Sofia darted forward, taking advantage of the confusion. Viktor’s heart skipped a beat as she moved past him, heading straight for Ivan, who was bound and unconscious on the floor. She wasn’t supposed to be in the line of fire. She wasn’tsupposed to be anywhere near this. But there she was, fighting her way through the chaos to save her brother.

"Get down!" Viktor shouted, reaching for her, but it was too late.

A gunshot rang out, and Sofia staggered, her arm jerking back as the bullet grazed her. Viktor’s world shifted into slow motion. For a moment, he couldn’t move. His mind was paralyzed with the image of her, the blood staining her sleeve. He surged forward, pushing past his team, his own body acting on instinct.

"Sofia!" he roared, his tone raw, filled with panic.

She dropped to her knees, her face pale, but her eyes still sharp, still defiant. She reached out to Ivan, her hand trembling as she touched him. Viktor could hardly focus on anything else as he rushed to her side.

"Don’t touch him," he barked, pulling her away from Ivan, his hands shaking as he checked the wound.

"Sofia…”

She met his eyes with that same stubborn glint in hers. "I’m fine," she said, though her pale face betrayed her. "We need to finish this."

But Viktor wasn’t listening. His hand hovered over her arm, the blood still fresh on her skin, and something inside him cracked. The cold, calculated man he had been moments ago was gone. All that remained was the need to protect her.

"Get the medkit," he ordered one of his men, his laden thick with emotion. "Now."

He was losing focus. He couldn’t afford to let his feelings get in the way. But Sofia tore through his walls, left him raw and exposed. The medkit was passed to him quickly, and Viktor’s hands worked with urgency as he bandaged Sofia’s arm. His movements were sharp, quick, but there was a certaintenderness in them, a tenderness he didn’t allow himself to acknowledge.

Her blood stained his fingers as he applied pressure to the wound, his brow furrowing in frustration. He wanted to yell at her, to make her understand how reckless she was being, but all that came out was a low growl of frustration. She had disobeyed his orders, put herself in harm’s way, and now she was injured because of it.

But still, there was a part of him—something primal—that was grateful she was still here, that she wasn’t lost to him. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if the bullet had struck deeper.

Sofia winced as he tightened the bandage, and for a moment, Viktor hesitated. His hands hovered over her skin, feeling the warmth of her body, the delicate tremor of pain. His eyes softened, but only for a second before the cold, detached mask of Viktor Ivanov slid back into place.

"Are you done?" she asked, still defiant despite the blood staining her arm.

"Don’t talk," Viktor snapped, his tone harsh, though his hold on her was gentle now. "You’re lucky you didn’t bleed out."

Her lips quirked up in a smirk, though the pain still lingered in her features. "I’m fine, Viktor. You should focus on the mission."

But he wasn’t listening. His mind was elsewhere, still processing the fact that Sofia had thrown herself into danger for Ivan. For someone she barely knew, someone who had been nothing but a weight around their necks. And yet, she had rushed in, risking everything.

He stood, pulling her to her feet with surprising tenderness for a man who rarely showed such care. His eyes scanned the room, the fight still ongoing. The team was making headway, but it wasn’t over yet.

"Stay with Sergei," Viktor ordered, his tone low, even though his mind was anything but. "I can’t afford for you to get in the way again."

Sofia’s jaw clenched in defiance, but she didn’t argue. She knew better than to push him further when he was like this. His words might have been harsh, but there was an underlying protectiveness in them that she knew too well. She nodded, and though Viktor could see the reluctance in her posture, she moved to Sergei’s side without a word.

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