Page 68 of Never Distract a Biker

Am I afraid of what I might learn? Fearful of the level of destruction I would bring down knowing Scarlett is a traitor? The most dangerous fear—that I might lose through my own hands the woman who has come to mean more to me than power or vengeance.

"Scarlett," I whisper her name like a prayer, a plea for clarity in a world gone mad. Our room door looms ahead, and with each step, I steel myself for the confrontation to come. My hand rests on the cold metal of the doorknob, ready to turn and face whatever lies beyond.

I push open the door to our suite, urgency clawing at my chest. The silence is a living entity, oppressive and thick, suffocating the space where laughter and whispers once lived. Scarlett's presence, usually so vibrant, is ominously absent. I scan the room, noting the meticulous arrangement of her belongings, an order that she never adheres to. It's as if a ghost tidied up behind her.

"Scarlett?" My voice doesn't carry. It falls flat, devoured by the quiet. The eerie stillness seeps into my bones, heightening the sense of wrongness that has been trailing me since the revelations emerged. I move through the space, the air stagnant, waiting for a sign of life—a note, a misplaced scarf, something to indicate she is here, she is real.

Nothing.

I bring out my phone and swipe to dial her number. Before my thumb presses 'call', the screen lights up with a buzz, Yelena's name flashing across it.

"Yelena?" I answer, the sound razor-sharp against the silence.

"Viktor," she gasps, and terror laces her every syllable. "It's Scarlett—she's been taken."

The words land like a gut punch, stealing the breath from my lungs. Taken. Abducted. The world tilts, reality skewing as I clutch the phone tighter.

"Details, Yelena. Now." My command is terse, every muscle tensed for action. Her panic is contagious, but I can't afford to catch it—not now.

"Yelena, fucking calm down and talk to me!" I bark into the phone, my grip on it so tight I'm surprised it hasn't shattered like my goddamn patience. My heart's a hammer in my chest, pounding out a rhythm of pure, unadulterated rage.

"Viktor, I—I don't know how—it happened so fast—" Her voice is a frantic whisper that grates against my already frayed nerves.

"Start at the beginning," I demand, my tone ice-cold despite the firestorm within me. "Where's Scarlett?"

"Sh-she went to the bathroom ..." Yelena stammers, and I can almost hear her sobbing on the other end. "In the boutique. We were shopping, and she just ... She needed to go, and I waited outside for her."

"Go on." I clench my jaw, muscles tensing as if readying for a fight.

"Then she didn't come back, Viktor. She took longer than usual, and I got worried. I went looking for her, and—"

"Yelena, what did you find?" I snap, not wanting her to spiral into hysteria.

"Signs of struggle. Her bracelet was on the floor," she chokes out, her voice laced with disbelief and terror. "And one earring too. But there was no sign of her. She's gone."

The world narrows to a pinpoint of fury; every curse that passes my lips is a promise of retribution. Someone will pay for taking what's mine. And they'll pay in capital blood letters.

"The two guards you asked to follow us showed up," Yelena's voice crackles with a mix of hopelessness. "They looked around, but Scarlett ... she wasn't there anymore."

"You mean my men failed." The sentence rumbles from deep within my chest.

"Grigori and Pavel were outsmarted."

"The fuck there were!" The curse slices through the air, a verbal blade aimed at the incompetence of my men. How could they let this happen? Grigori and Pavel are supposed to be reliable, sharp—hawks among pigeons. And yet, they have allowed the unthinkable to occur under their goddamn noses.

"Did they see anything at all?" My words are clipped, each one loaded with barely restrained fury.

"Nothing, Viktor. They didn't see anyone coming or going." Her voice trembles, and it only fuels my rage further.

"Useless," I hiss, slamming my fist against the wall, the impact echoing through the silence that follows. These were not just any men; they were handpicked by me, trained to watch, to protect, and now they've failed. They've failed Scarlett, they’ve failed my children, they've failed Yelena, they've failed the Bratva—my Bratva—and most of all, they've failed me.

"Stay where you are. I'm coming." I end the call abruptly. It takes every fiber in me not to crush the phone in my hand.

Their carelessness stings like acid on an open wound. There will be hell to pay for their negligence. As the leader of the Bratva, it is not just my right but my duty to ensure that justice, brutal and unflinching, is served. The rest will learn by example.

I storm through the corridors of our headquarters, my blood boiling hotter with each step. The door to the interrogation room slams open under the force of my rage, rebounding against the wall as I enter. Grigori and Pavel stand before me, their faces already washed pale with fear.

"Explain," I bark, my tone venomous. "Explain how you let her vanish!"

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