Page 81 of Blood Oath Christmas
I'm moving before he finishes speaking, my feet carrying me toward the door with a desperation I've never felt before. Not when my parents were gunned down. Not when I took over the family at twenty.
The winter air bites at my face as Viktor and I make our way through the snow-covered grounds. My breath comes in sharp puffs, each one a reminder that I'm still breathing while she might not be. The thought makes my chest constrict painfully.
"Here," Viktor says, stopping near a cluster of pine trees not far from the main road.
The scene before me tells a story I don't want to read. Disturbed snow, scuffed earth beneath where someone fought. A piece of pale blue fabric, the same color as the sweater Ivy was wearing when I last saw her, hangs from a low branch like a flag of surrender.
I drop to my knees, my fingers tracing the impressions in the frozen ground. Boot prints. Multiple sets. And smaller ones that could only belong to her, the treads I've memorized from jogging with her around the estate each morning.
"No blood," Viktor observes quietly, and I know he's trying to offer comfort, but it doesn't help. They took her alive, which means they want something from me. Or they want to make her suffer first.
It has to be Vadim. Or his men. With the trial so close, he’s desperate to shut her up. But the question is, why didn’t he just kill her? Why go to the trouble of taking her?
Unless he wants something from me.
Or it could be one of the rival families, out for retaliation for the Kozlovs.
The rage that builds in my chest is volcanic, threatening to consume everything in its path. But underneath it, something else writhes—fear. Pure, unadulterated terror that I might lose the one person who's managed to crack through the armor I've worn for most of my life.
When did it happen? When did protecting Ivy stop being about honoring my blood oath to her father and become about something infinitely more personal? When did her laugh become the sound I most want to hear? When did her blue eyes become the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I see before I sleep?
I love her.
I, Konstantin Mikhailov, head of one of the most feared families in the city, am completely, irrevocably in love with atwenty-six-year-old woman who makes me want to be better than the monster I've become.
And now she's gone.
"Konstantin," Viktor says again, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it. "We'll find her."
I stand, brushing snow from my knees, and turn to face mysovietnik. Viktor has been with me since the beginning, has watched me build this empire from the ashes of my parents' blood. He's seen me make hard choices, eliminate threats, show no mercy to those who cross us. But he's also been watching Ivy from afar for years, following my orders to keep her safe. I can see the pain in his dark eyes, the way his jaw clenches with barely contained fury.
"You care about her too," I say, and it's not a question.
"She's…" He pauses, searching for words. "She's like the daughter I never had. Watching her grow up, even from a distance, seeing her become the woman she is now. “
Ivy should be planning lessons for her future students, not running from bullets and hiding behind the walls of my estate. She should be free to love whoever she chooses, not bound to me by circumstances and danger.
But selfish bastard that I am, I can't imagine letting her go. Not now. Not when I've finally admitted to myself what she means to me.
"Call Maksim," I order, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head. "Tell him to set up a meeting with the other families for Monday. If this is about territory or respect, we'll handle it the traditional way."
"And if it's not?"
Then I'll burn this entire city to the ground to get her back.
"We prepare for war either way," I say instead. "Double the security around all our properties. Call in every soldier we have. I want eyes and ears on every street corner, every back alley,every rat hole where they might be keeping her. Whether it’s Vadim or one of the rival families. Either way, I’m getting her back or there will be hell to pay."
Viktor nods and pulls out his phone, already dialing. I watch him walk away, speaking in rapid Russian to Maksim, and try to push down the panic clawing at my throat.
Think, Konstantin. Who would be bold enough to take her? Who would risk my wrath?
Vadim Antonov is the obvious choice. He's hated my family since before I was born, and taking Ivy would be the perfect way to hurt me. But there’s also the Bocharovs. Ivan has been pushing for an alliance through marriage between Mila and me, and removing Ivy from the equation would clear that path. But Ivan is old school. I’d like to think he'd come to me directly, not resort to kidnapping.
There's one person who might know something. One person whose network of information rivals my own, whose connections run deeper than anyone suspects. Someone who's been watching from the shadows, someone who has as much invested in Ivy's safety as I do.
Leaning against a tree trunk, the blue scrap of fabric clutched in my hand, I pull out my phone and stare at my contacts. Do I dare call? Do I dare break the silence I’ve promised to keep?
My finger hovers over the contact name I've kept buried in my phone, a number I memorized but hoped never to use. It doesn’t matter. Ivy’s life is at stake and I’ll do everything I can to save her.
