Page 71 of Never Distract a Biker

Rage ignites in my veins, a scalding torrent that obliterates reason. My hand crushes the phone, the metal creaking under the force of my grip. I can hear the demon within me stir, its presence like a shadow across my consciousness, amplifying my fury, sharpening it into a weapon.

I'm moving before he finishes, my body an instrument of destruction fine-tuned by years of ruthless control. Now, that control is shattering, leaving only the need to destroy, to protect, and to reclaim what's mine.

"Get the car." The command is for anyone, everyone. My men materialize, sensing the shift in the air, the impending storm.

"Viktor—" Yelena starts, but I'm already beyond reach, my mind a labyrinth of dark corridors, each twist and turn leading to Scarlett.

"Track them. Every camera, every witness, every godforsaken rat in the city." The orders pour from me, cold and unforgiving as the Russian winter.

"Understood," comes the chorus of replies, my network of shadows already spreading through the city's veins.

Each second is a countdown, a ticking bomb in my chest. They have her. Do they think they can keep taking what's mine? A laugh, bitter and sharp, echoes in the empty room. Fools.

"Boss, we will find her," Lev's voice reaches me, a lifeline thrown into the abyss. But I'm not falling. I'm rising like the leviathan from the depths, ready to devour those in my path.

"Make sure of it," I snarl. "Because if they harm a single hair on her head, there will be no place on this earth where they can hide from me."

And with that promise hanging in the air, heavy as a gravestone, I become the storm, the embodiment of the retribution they've dared to invoke.

"Use every person we have in authority to lock down the city," I command, my voice a blade cutting through the silence. The men before me snap to attention, their eyes reflecting the urgency that's taken hold of my every fiber. "Delay as many flights as you can, ask our men in aviation to comb through manifestos, and cancel as many flights as you can."

I pace like a caged animal, each step a drumbeat to war. My heart hammers against my ribs, not just with rage but with something far more corrosive—fear.

"Viktor, what about—" One of my lieutenants begins, but I cut him off.

"Find her!" I roar. The words are a whip, spurring them into action. They know better than to ask questions when my world is on the line.

"Double the men at every checkpoint. Triple them." My mind races, images of Scarlett, sweet but feisty with her barely noticeable baby bump flood my vision. And a new firestorm ignites within my brain.

"Check the hospitals, the morgues." My voice cracks like ice. "Everywhere."

"Understood," they respond, their movements swift and precise. A machine set into motion by my will alone.

"Bring her back to me." It's a plea wrapped in steel. The thought of Scarlett, alone and afraid, slices through me. And our children ... A growl rumbles in my throat. They've stirred a beast, one whose wrath knows no bounds.

"Whatever it takes," I add, my tone leaving no room for failure. This isn't just a mission; it's a crusade. For Scarlett and for the tiny lives she carries.

"Gear up!" I bark. Kevlar vests and weapons are distributed with a sense of grim determination. My men understand—the stakes have never been higher.

"Move out!" I command, watching as they scatter like shadows in the night. Each one is a part of the storm I've become. Thecalm is gone, replaced by a hurricane of violence soon to be unleashed.

As they leave, I'm alone with my fear—that gnawing terror of losing everything I never knew I wanted until Scarlett walked into my life. But I push it down, bury it beneath layers of resolve. Fear will not rule me. Not now. Not when Scarlett needs me most.

"Stay safe,moy angel," I whisper into the void, a prayer to a silent god. "I'm coming for you."

It’s been five hours since she was taken. I pace the room, a predator caged by necessity. My mind, once a calm sea, now churns with tempestuous waves of strategy. I look at the maps on the walls, points connected by red lines like blood trails. Each mark a place Scarlett might be, each line a path to her.

"Satellite images," I command, and screens flicker to life, showing bird's-eye views of warehouses, docks, and secluded estates. "Check them all."

"Street cams," I continue, turning to face one of my top fieldmen, Anton, whose eyes meet mine with grim resolve. He nods, fingers already flying over a keyboard.

"Ransom demands?" he asks, his voice steady despite the storm we're in.

"None," I spit out the word like venom. That means this isn't about money. It's personal like I suspected. A message meant to cut deep. They don't know who they're dealing with.

"Bank accounts, known associates, recent communications. Pull up everything about Vovka Sidorov." My orders are clipped, each one a bullet in the chamber.

Anton's response is a silent nod before he turns away, setting his team into motion. Every resource at our disposal is now a weapon, every bit of information is a possible key to unlock Scarlett's location.

---