Page 188 of Porcelain Lies

Run off?

How the fuck does she justrun off? And why? Things have been… good. Better than good.

Blyad!

Panic ignites within me, and I curse under my breath, thumbing the screen to access the app that links to her biomarker device. I haven’t been checking it as obsessively these past weeks. There’s been no doubt in my mind that Stella is as anxious as I am to do the best for our baby. She’d never put him at risk in any way.

Him…A small, involuntary smile tugs at my lips. We keep arguing about it, but lately, I’ve found myself imagining a smaller version of her in my world — her stubbornness, her fire, her brilliance.

Except now, I have other things to worry about. A flurry of data streams in, and shock grips me as I watch her stress levels spike alarmingly high while the coordinates are scrambled. But then, there’s nothing. The last set of data came in… over an hour ago.

Chert voz’mi!

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to remain calm, to keep my head clear. Stella’s in trouble. And I don’t know where she is.

Fuck!

I need help handling this and quick. Someone with a better grasp of technology than me.

“Vasya!” I bark into my phone after speed-dialling him. The ringing had felt like an eternity as I paced back and forth, waiting for him to answer.

“Aleksei? What’s wrong?” His voice breaks through my turbulent thoughts.

“Stella’s biomarker app shows she’s in distress,” I say, urgency lacing every word. “And her tracker’s gone offline. Find out where she is!”

I hear typing on his end before he speaks again. “She had a secondary tracker on her cellphone — she’s… in an industrial area filled with warehouses.”

What the fuck?

Why the hell would she be in an industrial area? She’d gone shopping! And she left with security, someone to look after her. Unless…

Someone took her!

The realization hits me like a freight train. And there’s only one person who immediately springs to mind.

Maranzano.

That piece of shit.

We’ve been playing cat and mouse with him for the last two weeks, Sasha struggling to pin him down without drawing too much heat. And Gianni… if he’s involved, if he’s dragged Stella into this again—

Yobani Urod!

“Cross-reference the address against Maranzano’s property records,” I tell Vaysa.

“Gianni Maranzano?”

“No, Rasputin Maranzano.” I snort impatiently. “Jesus, Vasya. Of course, fucking Gianni.” My temper is flaring, and he knows better than to push me.

There’s more typing. “Khop-lya!” he exclaims. “It’s one of his. Through a holding company, so it’s registered as a—”

I don’t bother listening to the rest. I end the call, bringing up another number.

I call Sasha next, adrenaline surging through me like wildfire. “Get ready. We’re moving.”

Sasha’s voice is tense but composed. “Where to? What’s going on?”

“Stella’s been taken,” I say, my jaw tightening. “It was Maranzano.”

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