Page 70 of Imperfect Desires

“She didn’t.”

“Then this might take a miracle. But I’ll try.”

“Don’t try. Do it.”

I hang up.

The hours drag. The wall fills. My hand throbs. My eyes burn.

Still nothing.

I sit on the floor surrounded by shadows and paper ghosts and feel the walls inch closer again. My head tilts back, eyes on the ceiling.

A call cuts through my thoughts and I rush to pick up my phone. Felix.

“I got something.”

My heart skips. “Where?”

“Wait—it’s not her phone. But someone who might be close to her. A burner pinged near the airport. Belongs to a known associate of the Cartel. Low-level. Juan DeSantos. Ring a bell?”

My blood turns to ice. Juan. “He’s still in New York?”

“No. He bounced a few hours after the ping. It could be a dead end. But I’m still digging.”

“Dig faster, and see if you can find Juan’s current location,” I command, ending the call.

No one has been able to give me feedback, and Felix has picked Juan in the same proximity as Alina. Maybe outside players came in to pull this job off, which is why I do not have any leads yet.

It’s not much, but it’s something. I stare at the wall. My war board. My altar of fury. Whoever took her, whoever dared touch her, didn’t understand yet. They don’t know what they’ve unleashed.

My phone rings again, and this time around it is Viktor.

"Lev?" Viktor’s voice sounds tired and distressed, as though it is coming from underwater. “Any news?”

“Nothing, but I’m close to finding a lead.”

“Damn.”

"Have you been sent any surveillance footage? Routes? Details?" I ask.

"Not yet," Viktor says, frustration bleeding through. "But Zasha’s on the phone with Anton. He’s working on it. I’ll have him send everything to you too."

I nod, even though he can’t see me.

"Tell him to move fast. We don’t have time."

I hang up. My fingers move before my mind catches up—years of instinct taking over. I start calling in every favor owed to me, reaching out to old contacts, black market trackers, and informants who owe me blood or money. My voice is calm andlethal. The message is always the same: let me know if you hear anything concerning her.

I open the gun safe, and the click of the lock sounds like a war drum. Inside, my old tools stare back at me: cold steel, precision, and power. I shrug on the holster, checking the slide of my Glock with a cold detachment that comes naturally.

I pause for only a second, staring at my reflection in the black glass of the window. The man looking back at me is someone I thought I buried. But maybe he was never really gone.

Alina changed everything. She softened the sharp edges I never thought would dull. She made me believe there was something more than blood and survival. Something worth holding on to.

And I left her.

I let my fear of losing Viktor, of betraying the only family I'd ever known, blind me to the one person who saw me. Who loved me, even when I didn’t deserve it. But I won’t fail her again. Not this time. This time, I’ll walk into hell, and not even the devil himself can keep her from me.

---