Page 72 of Owned By Shadows

I get a moment of dizziness, my heartbeat racing as I think about what’s coming, the danger we are all about to be in. I fucking hate splitting up, loathe the lack of control it gives me. It’s the way forward, the best of a shitty situation, but I can’t stop the pit that opens in my stomach that warns of danger. Of tragedy.

“Daddy?” Iris’s soft voice breaks me from my morbid thoughts, and I shake myself as if that will rid me of them. It works to a degree, though there’s that lingering churning in my gut that I know won’t go away until this is done with.

“Coming, Peaches,” I reply, walking to the bed, to the people who are most precious to me.

I won’t let anyone take them, not a single one. I will fight the fucking devil to prevent the loss, and I will win, because Hunter Anderson doesn’t let anyone take what belongs to him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“I FOUND” BY AMBER RUN

NIKOLAI

Istand at the window of our luxury warehouse penthouse, which was bought under a false name that hints the fact it’s us who now own it. We want Sergi’s attention, so we can’t hide too much. It overlooks the Thames, and I watch as fog rolls over the dark river. London in December is all muted greys and icy drizzle, the Christmas lights blurred through mist. A complete opposite to the stunning tropical islands that we’ve been staying at recently, but it’s not just the dismal weather that has my heart heaving. It’s being split from the others, my family. The twice daily check ins aren’t enough. I need to hold Iris and Roman, and let Hunt embrace me in that way he does, which tells me I’m safe like never before.

A huff leaves my lips, fogging up the glass in front of my face. We’ve spent two fucking weeks in the city, and we’re no bloody closer to identifying Sergi’s exact location than whenwe’d arrived. He’s disappeared, and eyes on the Petrov Estate have revealed nothing.

“Anything from Alexei?” Rowan asks, entering the room with two cups of coffee. The steam curls in the air above them, the fragrant smell making my mouth water even if a part of me feels we’ve just been existing on the stuff and nothing else. Nothing as delicious as Hunt’s cooking anyway, though I wouldn’t tell Dima that. He’s missing Andrei, all sullen and like a dark rain cloud. Not that I can blame him. Rowan and I are no better and poor Bubby has had to put up with all three of us being grumpy arseholes.

I take a cup from him as he stands next to me before looking back out at the dark night beyond the window. “Radio silence for the past forty-eight hours.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, it isn’t.” I take a sip of the bitter coffee, my mind cataloging possibilities. Alexei going dark could mean many things, none of them favourable or good. Fuck. “For now, the timetable remains the same. New Year’s Eve.”

“And if Alexei doesn’t reestablish contact?” I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He’s so different from his twin, all dark to Roman’s light, but there’s an unapologetic nature about him, like he doesn’t give a fuck if he’s a bit of a psycho and people know it. I admire that, his lack of hiding. I feel like I’ve spent my whole life trying to be something else just to survive, and I’m so fucking tired.

“We proceed as planned.” My voice leaves no room for debate, even if my stomach churns inside at having to face this without Alexei’s help. “We’ve come too far to back down now.”

Rowan is still. It’s something I’ve noticed about him these past two weeks. He doesn’t move if he doesn’t need to, like a snake waiting to strike but happy to leave its prey guessing. It’s unnerving. He is always watching. Calculating.

“You're thinking about his medical centre again,” Rowan says, not a question. It’s the one piece of information we’ve discovered between our various contacts.

I nod. “Three floors of the Harley Street building are supposedly under renovation. Security increased last week. Unmarked vehicles coming and going at odd hours.” It’s too much of a coincidence.

“Could be anything, we don’t know for sure,” he replies, though he sounds uncertain, like he knows even without eyes inside that it’s where Sergi is planning on taking Iris.

“It’s where he’d take her,” I say with cold certainty. My gut tells me I’m right, and with the life I’ve had, I’ve learned to trust my gut. Some days it was the only thing that kept me alive. “Private, discreet, medical equipment already in place. My father thinks of everything.”

Rowan’s reflection in the glass hardens, his jaw a sharp blade as he grinds his teeth. “If Sergi’s preparing for Iris’s arrival, we need to set a trap. Draw him out before the other’s land.”

“That’s precisely what I’ve been considering,” I reply, turning from the window with a grimace. “Hunt will be pissed though. He wants us to wait. Not to risk anything without his backup.”

“I will risk everything if it’s to keep her safe. Fuck what Hunt thinks,” Rowan snarls, and this is why we make a great team. Neither of us let any morals interfere with keeping our girl, our family safe. “What are you thinking?”

“We know my father’s surveillance network has been compromised—Roman’s contacts made sure of that. Now we feed false information.”

“What kind of information?”

I set my coffee down, moving to the secure laptop that rests on the desk. “That I’ve separated from Iris. That she’s being transported alone with minimal security.” My gut churns at that. Just as Hunter hates not being able to protect us, I feel the sameabout him, Roman and Iris. It makes me feel sick that something could happen and I won’t be there to stop it. Shaking my head, not willing to be frozen by fear when I can’t do anything about it, I type rapidly. “That she’s scheduled to arrive at Heathrow tomorrow night on private medical transport.”

Rowan’s eyes narrow, a gleam entering them. “You’re deliberately drawing Sergi’s men to Heathrow, while the others actually land at?—”

“RAF Northolt,” I finish. “Military airfield, private terminal. My father won’t expect it—it’s too official, too exposed for someone trying to stay hidden.”

“And too well-protected to risk an extraction.” Rowan nods, a small tilt of his lips appearing as he follows the logic of my plan. “But if Sergi’s men move to Heathrow based on your false information…”

“We’ll have confirmation of their presence in London, potential identification of key personnel, and most importantly, evidence they’re actively targeting Iris.” All information that, until this point, we’ve not been able to get, which has been frustrating, to say the least. My fingers pause over the keyboard. “It’s time to activate our contact in the Met’s counterterrorism unit.”

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