Page 160 of Made for Sinners

I tossed the phone onto the table, the screen cracking on impact.

The room was dead silent.

I turned to the tech. “Start pulling schematics on the Romanov compound. I want blueprints. I want guard rotations. I want satellite footage from the last forty-eight hours.”

“Yes, sir.”

I turned to Rafe. “Get me a list of every Russian asset in the city. I want them watched. I want them followed. If they so much as blink wrong, I want to know.”

He nodded, already pulling out his phone.

Luca leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like I might explode. “You’re really going to go to war over this?”

I looked at him. “They took my wife.”

He didn’t argue.

I paced the room, my boots echoing off the stone floor. My blood felt like fire in my veins. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I could still see her face in that video—terrified, gagged, helpless.

And I’d let it happen.

I should’ve known she’d go through the tunnel. I should’ve had men posted at the exit. I should’ve?—

I slammed my fist into the edge of the table, the wood splintering beneath the force. Pain shot up my arm, but I didn’t care.

They took my fucking wife.

They stole my money.

They used my blood.

And now they’d taken the only thing that mattered.

Unacceptable.

Unforgivable.

I would burn Moscow to the ground.

The minutes dragged.

Every second felt like a lifetime, and still, no call.

I started issuing orders—plans for extraction, for retaliation, for complete annihilation. I was already halfway through outlining a full assault on the Romanov estate when my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered on the first ring.

“Nikolai,” I said.

“Dante,” came the smooth, accented voice. “I just heard.”

“Spare me the bullshit,” I said. “Your brother signed off on this.”

There was a pause. “Yes.”

I closed my eyes.

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