Page 30 of His Grip

Sergei nodded. “I’ll mobilize the team immediately.”

Viktor stood, walking to the weapons rack. He selected a sleek black handgun, checking its chamber before sliding it into a holster beneath his jacket. His movements were precise, methodical. He needed to stay focused—needed to remind himself that this was just another mission.

But it wasn’t.

Ivan’s capture wasn’t just a strategic blow; it was personal. Alexei wasn’t merely targeting Viktor’s operations. He was targeting his family.

Sergei’s brow furrowed and he nodded before walking out of the room to carry out the order he'd been given.

Left alone with Andrei, Viktor turned his attention back to the map spread across the table. His mind worked in overdrive, analyzing entry points, escape routes, and contingency plans. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of doubt. Failure wasn’t an option.

“Do you have a plan, Boss?” Andrei’s tone was gruff, tinged with the faintest hint of irritation.

Viktor looked up, his eyes sharp. “Ivan’s been taken. I need your input on the rescue plan.”

Andrei moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he took in the map. “Alexei’s playing a dangerous game. He knows Ivan’s important.”

“He’s baiting us,” Viktor said coldly. “But he’s underestimated me. I won’t walk into his trap blindly.”

Andrei studied the dockyard diagram for a moment before pointing to a section marked as a storage area. “If he’s there, they’ll keep him somewhere isolated, easy to guard. Here, maybe. Or near the main offices.”

Viktor nodded. Andrei’s tactical instincts were one of the reasons he kept him close, even if the man’s arrogance grated on him. “We’ll strike at night. Minimize collateral damage and maximize the element of surprise.”

“And Sofia?” Andrei asked, his tone carefully neutral.

A muscle worked in his jaw. “She’s not part of this.”

Andrei smirked, though he quickly masked it. “Good luck convincing her of that.”

“I’ll handle Sofia,” Viktor said firmly.

Andrei raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just saying. She’s not exactly the obedient type.”

Viktor shot him a glare, effectively ending the discussion. “Focus on the mission, Andrei. I don’t need distractions.”

Viktor had just finished briefing Sergei and Andrei when the study door opened again. Sofia entered, her expression a mix of worry and determination. The friction from the night before still hung thick around them, but this wasn’t about their unresolved emotions. This was about Ivan.

“I’m coming with you,” she said without preamble. A steady timbre belied the storm brewing inside her.

Viktor straightened, his broad frame blocking the map spread across the table as if shielding her from the violence it represented. “No, you’re not,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Sofia crossed her arms, her fingers touching the fabric of her sleeves. “He’s my brother, Viktor. You can’t expect me to sit here and do nothing while he’s out there, terrified and alone.”

“You being there won’t help him.” His words were calm, and measured, but his jaw was tight. “This isn’t your world, Sofia. It’s mine. Let me handle it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t patronize me. I know what this is, and I’m not afraid to face it.”

Viktor let out a sharp exhale, turning away as if he could end the conversation by sheer force of will. He picked up a pen and began marking something on the map, refusing to meet her challenge head-on.

But Sofia wasn’t backing down.

She sauntered closer, her pitch rising. “You can’t keep shutting me out, Viktor. You dragged me into this life, whether I wanted it or not. I’m not some fragile doll you can put on a shelf while you play hero. Ivan is my family. I have every right to be there.”

He slammed the pen down, the sharp crack startling her into silence. When he turned to her, his eyes burned with frustration and something deeper—fear.

“Do you know what happens in situations like this?” he questioned. “People die, Sofia. And if something happens to you…” He paused, swallowing hard as if the thought was too much to bear. “I won’t let that happen.”

Her heart twisted at the rawness in his tone, but she pushed past it. “I can take care of myself.”

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