Page 14 of Cruel Russian Pakhan
Fuck!
I was going to put a bullet through the skull of every incompetent bastard on this compound.
But not yet. First, I had to find her. If anyone saw Vera wandering the streets alone, she’d become a target for Artyom’s enemies. No one knew we were married, and that made her vulnerable. She was more valuable alive than dead to me.
I strode to the car, and Rocco appeared just in time to open the door. Once I was in, he climbed into the driver’s seat and dialed Timur.
“Boss?”
“Mrs. Safin left the house…”
I checked my watch. She’d been in her room fifteen minutes ago when dinner was delivered. She was on foot, had no money and no phone to call for a ride. She couldn't have gotten far.
“...about fifteen minutes ago. I need eyes on her. Now.”
I heard Timur’s fingers clacking on his computer keys.
"The last feed showed her entering the industrial wasteland in Callowhill, half the cameras there don’t even work.”
“Keep eyes on her.” I hung up.
“Where to, boss?” Rocco asked as he glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
“Callowhill.”
Rocco nodded, gunned the engine, and sped out of the compound.
I clenched my jaw. Why the hell would Vera head that way? There was nothing there but decay: abandoned buildings, warehouses, addicts, and whores.
She could’ve picked a crowded place, somewhere to disappear into the masses. Instead, she chose to make herself a target. That signal lit up in my head like a damn Christmas tree.
As we rolled into Callowhill, we slowed to a crawl, eyes scanning the darkness for a flash of blonde hair.
And then I saw her.
She was half running, half limping.
Of course she was limping; she’d dropped from the second fucking story of my house like she was some damn superhero.
Stupid, reckless woman.
Now she was darting from one building to the next, glancing around before moving like a fugitive. But it was too late.
I’d already seen her.
Rocco stopped a few feet away, and I leapt out. I ran the short distance, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her to face me. She’d pay for running, I’d make damn sure of that. Once I was done with her, when I told her to jump, she'd bloody ask how high.
She froze at my touch, eyes going wide with terror the moment she realized who had her. Maybe she was hoping for a mugger.
Instead, she got a furious husband, one who also happened to be the head of a Bratva faction, and who’d punished people for far less than what she just pulled.
“I see you're still full of bad ideas,” I growled. “After the stunt you just pulled, putting you in a dungeon might be the only option I have left.”
I didn’t care how scared she was. She needed to understand this wasn’t a game. She was mine. End of story.
“Let me go!” she spat as she tried to wriggle her hand free.
“The only place I'm letting you go back to is our house.”
