Page 102 of Doomed
I clench my jaw so hard my teeth might crack. Every second we waste is another second Bianca’s with those Russian fucking animals. The blue ribbon burns in my pocket, a constant reminder of what I stand to lose.
I lean forward with my palms flat on the table. “We’ve got six hours until sundown. Let’s plan this shit out now. Fuck only knows what they’ve done or will do to her while they have her, and I’ll be damned if she spends a minute more than is necessary in their hands. He took her as a bargaining chip; it’s time he learns our women aren’t athingto leverage.”
Landon stares at me, his eyes calculating as always. That’s his thing—being cautious and thinking ten steps ahead while I’m ready to kick down the fucking door. Right now, though, even I know rushing in would be suicide—for Bianca and me.
He holds my gaze for a long moment, like he’s assessing whether I’m actually capable of following a plan rather than my dick or my temper. Finally, he gives a slight nod.
“Better order coffee and food in,” he says, already pulling out his phone. “We won’t have any time to rest once this starts.”
He grabs his laptop from his messenger bag and powers it up, fingers flying across the keyboard before the screen even fully brightens. Within seconds, he’s projecting building schematics onto the wall.
“The Ivanov estate,” he explains, enlarging the blueprints. “Three floors, basement, eight exterior guards rotating on thirty-minute intervals, interior security unknown, but likely minimal given how off-the-books this place is.”
I stare at the blue lines of the building layout, mentally tracing entry and exit points, imagining Bianca somewhereinside. Is she scared? Is she hurt? The thought makes my blood boil all over again.
“Where would he keep her?” I ask, forcing myself to focus on the plan, not the rage.
Landon zooms in on the third floor. “Master suite or one of the adjacent rooms. Ilya always keeps high-value assets close.”
High-value assets. Like she’s a fucking commodity.
I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles white as I stare at the blueprints. My rage burns like acid in my veins, but I force it down. Bianca needs calm Knox, not impulsive Knox. Easier said than done for me. But this isn’t for me, it’s for her. So, I rein my shit in.
“South entrance gives us the best shot,” I say, tracing the route with my finger. “We need a distraction at the front gate.”
Xavier nods. “I’ll handle that. I can draw enough attention to pull some guards away.”
“I’ll take point on the approach,” Vane adds, leaning over the table. “Two-man teams. Knox and I go in first, Landon provides tech support to disable security, and a second team follows as backup. We’ll have to get Jenson in on this. Has anyone called him?”
Landon’s fingers fly across his keyboard. “I can hack their security feed, loop old footage. Give us a fifteen-minute window before they realize anything is going on.”
For once, we’re not bickering or competing. We’re focused on one goal: getting Bianca back.
“Weapons?” I ask.
“Already covered,” Xavier says, pulling out his phone. “Marcus is bringing a full arsenal. Suppressors, body armor, the works.”
There’s a doorbell at the warehouse?
“Uber Eats,” he explains, returning with bags of food and a drink carrier with four large coffees.
“Perfect timing,” Vane says, grabbing a coffee and passing the others around.
We eat quickly, barely tasting the food, while finalizing the details. Xavier outlines guard positions, Vane maps our approach vectors, and Landon creates digital backdoors into Orlov’s security system.
I contribute where needed, but find myself staring at the blueprint section marked “Master Suite.” That’s where she is. I can feel it.
“You good?” Xavier asks, noticing my silence.
“I will be,” I answer, “when she’s safe.”
As the others hash out final details, I step away to the window, Bianca’s blue ribbon wound through my fingers. Night is falling. Soon we’ll move.
I’m coming for you, Bianca. I made you mine during the Hunt, claimed you as my prey, but I failed to protect you. Never again.
When I get her back—not if, when—I’ll keep her so close that nothing will ever harm her. I’ll burn down the fucking world before I let anyone take my girl from me again.
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