Page 95 of Merciless Desires

My laugh is brittle and mirthless. "Oh, I think we can make an educated guess. Badawi wants a war, he's about to fucking get one."

Alexei grabs me again, frustration etched on his blunt features. "Just wait, damn it. Dmitri's already contacting our informants, trying to get a lead. We'll find her. But charging in right now will only get you killed." He meets my furious gaze unflinchingly. "Natalia needs you alive, brother. So keep your shit together."

I bristle at his brashness, but ultimately concede his point. He's right, my rage won't help matters. With immense effort I leash my fury. For now.

Alexei claps my shoulder. "We'll scour the city, shake down every contact we have. Stay by the phone. The second we get any whisper of her location, we move."

I nod. The wait will be agony, but I know my men won't rest until she's found.

After Alexei leaves, I find myself wandering the gardens, retracing the steps Natalia took just hours ago. I settle on the stone bench in the secluded arbor, imagining her here in this very spot earlier today. So close, yet unreachable now.

With her gone, the bleak emptiness returns full force. How quickly she became vital to me. Her inner light banished the cold darkness that's shrouded my soul for so long. Without her, the world seems colorless and dim.

But I cannot lose hope. She needs me to stay strong. To find her.

A crushing weight settles on my shoulders. What if she's already dead? Like a coward, I’ve been avoiding that grim possibility, but I can't deny it's likely whoever took her wants her silenced permanently.

The thought shreds what's left of my composure. A guttural sound rips from my chest. In a burst of violence, I grab the stone bench and hurl it sideways. It crashes to the ground, cracking into pieces.

Falling to my knees, I press my forehead into the grass, ragged breaths tearing through my lungs. God help them if Natalia is harmed. I will paint the streets with blood.

An hour later, I get a call from Dmitri.

“What is it? Have you learned anything?”

“We have,” Dmitri barks through the phone. “And it’s not good.”

The warehouse door crashes open under the force of my boot. I stalk inside, gun drawn, Dmitri, Alexei, and three other vory follow close behind. My fury is a living thing, pulsing through my veins, fueling my steps. I will slaughter anyone who stands between me and Natalia.

Her abduction from my own home, under my protection, is unforgivable.

I knew. When Natalia told me her father’s name was Alexandr Federov, I didn’t want to believe it, but deep inside, I knew the reason Boris wanted Natalia dead was not because she was an eyewitness to a recent crime, but because she was a witness to a crime that occurred fifteen years ago—the execution of the pakhan by another member of the Bratva.

Treason. Betrayal. There is no forgiveness in the brotherhood for such a crime. Boris knew that if Natalia were to ID him, not only was his reign finished, he’d be sentenced to a brutally torturous death.

Now, scanning the familiar grim interior of one of Boris's storehouses, I am ready to scorch the earth.

My men fan out, quickly clearing each room. But the place is deserted. Somehow he must have caught wind of our approach and fled. Coward. Boris won't evade me for long.

A gunshot rings through the cavernous space.

"Viktor!" Dmitri's shout draws me down a dingy hallway. He's kneeling beside the crumpled form of a large man—Igor, Boris's cousin and one of his top henchmen. Dmitri rolls him over roughly. The man's shirt is soaked with blood from the gaping exit wound in his chest, but he still clings to life by a fraying thread.

I crouch beside him. "Where is she?" My tone is deadly calm despite the fury raging inside me.

The man grits his bloodstained teeth. "Go...fuck...yourself..." he forces out.

My expression doesn't change. I press the muzzle of my pistol to his shattered knee and pull the trigger.

His agonized scream echoes off the concrete walls. Music to my ears.

When he finally quiets, panting raggedly, I repeat, "The girl. Where?"

The man squeezes his eyes shut. I grind the gun barrel into his mangled knee, eliciting another hoarse cry.

"Enough," he gasps wetly. "S-storage. Back storage room." He slumps in defeat.

I straighten and stride through a grimy kitchen heading to the back. Behind a cracked door, I find a filthy mattress in the corner and discarded restraints hanging from an exposed pipe. Bile rises in my throat. My Natalia was kept here like an animal.

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