Page 104 of Unspoken

Vlad stalks the room like a caged animal, his jacket discarded, the sleeves of his rumpled dress shirt shoved up to the elbows. He downs another shot of whiskey, the expensive stuff that’s probably saved for shit days like this. Ricky and Seven, a couple of Vlad's guys I've seen around the club when I came by with Sasha, sit silently on the couch in the corner opposite mine. Ivan’s standing guard by the door, arms at his sides. His suit is all ruffled and torn. There’s a gash on his forehead and Seven offers Doc’s services but Ivan declines.

The room crackles with tension hard enough to choke on.

"The Hellhounds are ready and willing," Ricky says, his voice cutting through the moment of silence. "Just say the word and we'll ride with you on this."

Vlad slams his glass down, jaw clenched tight. "No. I'm not dragging your crew into this mess. It could blow back on your whole operation."

"Boss, we’ve seen a lot of action. We can handle this."

"I know." Vlad halts to a stop in the middle of the room and stares at each and every one of us. When his eyes land on me, I feel something prickle around my spine. I’ve forgotten who Vlad is. I’ve forgotten who his father was and what their family is capable of.

Seven leans forward, elbows on his knees. "What about the Arellanos? I know a guy in their operation who has connections. Could probably track down Toro. Find that rat, we find Shtyk."

I study Vlad's face, a thundercloud ready to unleash hell. This situation is spiraling out of control fast. Sasha is still out there, alone and scared, while we sit here with our thumbs up our asses. My stomach churns, a sickening mix of dread and helpless rage. I need to do something, anything. But without a solid lead, we're dead in the water, and Sasha could be dead, period.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the thought, fighting the urge to put my fist through the wall. Hang on,mylash. We're coming for you. Just hang on.

Vlad’s voice yanks me out of my dark thoughts. "McKenna, you hear anything from your guy? Any news on where they might've taken my brother?"

I shake my head, there’s a weight in my chest. "Nothing solid. Stan says Toro and Shtyk have been meeting up more than usual lately, but he doesn't know why or where or anything beyond what we already know."

"It is not a fucking secret they have been talking behind my back. I already know this," Vlad snaps.

Ivan mutters something in Russian, then adds in broken English, "Cartel is bad news. We play with them, it end bad for all."

Vlad drains the rest of his whiskey in one burning swallow and slams the glass down hard enough to rattle the desk. He moves to the door abruptly. "I need to use the bathroom. Will be right back."

As soon as the door closes behind him, Ricky and Seven exchange a loaded glance before turning their scrutiny on me and Ivan.

"So what the hell happened out there?" Ricky asks. "How'd they get the jump on you like that?"

I rub a hand over my face, exhaustion and worry etching deep lines into my skin. "The tip was bad. We walked right into an ambush."

Seven frowns. "And nobody thought to check it out first? Make sure it was legit?"

Anger flares hot in my veins, and I fix him with a hard stare. "If it was your family taken, you'd be thinking straight? Or would you charge in, guns blazing, to get them back?"

Seven holds up his hands in surrender, but Ricky isn't backing down. "Hey, we're all on the same side here. But we gotta be smart about this. Can't just go off half-cocked."

I’m suddenly unable to breathe in this tiny room. The walls begin to press in on me. "I need some air."

I exit the office, gulping down lungfuls of air-conditioned club air.

The bathroom door swings shut behind me with a hollow thud. I lean against the tiled wall, closing my eyes for a second andtrying to catch my breath. My pulse pounds in my ears, nearly drowning out the bass thumping from the dance floor below.

Vlad stands at the sink, hands braced on the dark marble, decorated by the snaking gold. His broad shoulders are hunched, head hanging low. He looks as wrecked as I feel. It’s a revelation—seeing him like this.

"Vlad," I rasp out, pushing off the wall. "Talk to me. What's going on? What the hell are we going to do?"

He shakes his head slowly, not meeting my eyes in the mirror. "This is all my fault," he mutters to himself. "I should have protected him better. Should have known they would keep on coming for Sasha..."

I step closer, my reflection moving alongside his. "You couldn't have known. None of us saw this coming."

Vlad slams a fist against the sink. "I am his brother! It is my job to keep him safe. And now..." His voice cracks. "Now they have him. Because of me. You are wrong. I should have seen this coming. They tried to kill him in London."

"We'll get him back," I say firmly, putting every ounce of conviction I can muster behind the words. "Whatever it takes."

Vlad shifts his angry, tortured gaze at me. "You, Americans, are so goddamn optimistic. You do not know when to stop hoping, do you?"

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