Page 64 of Nikolai

I bring my attention back to Novikoff. "Please let me go."

"I'm sorry. I can't do that, Mrs. Volkov," he says, not looking sorry at all.

"You can't just kidnap me. Whatever deal you had with my father has nothing to do with me."

"Unfortunately for you, that's where you are wrong. Your father and I made a deal. And though he did not live up to his end of the bargain and it cost me a client, I was still able to come out on top. You are married to a Volkov."

I grow increasingly angrier with each passing second. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Novikoff studies me for a moment then shakes his head. "So young and beautiful, yet so naïve. Women are a weakness in my world; in the world the Volkov's live in. This is a lesson your husband will, unfortunately, learn the hard way. You are but a pawn, Mrs. Volkov. One I plan to use to my advantage."

I swallow past the lump in my throat. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the odds are stacked against me. Though Nikolai has not shared details about this side of his life, I knew some parts include danger. Only it wasn't Nikolai placing me in the path of uncertainty. It was my father.

Just as Novikoff finishes his spiel, a woman walks in from the front of the plane, pushing a cart filled with glasses and liquor bottles. To the left of her, a man climbs the steps from outside, entering the cabin. I make a split-second decision to make a run for the exit, hoping my legs have enough strength to carry me. With Novikoff's attention on the woman, I bolt from my seat, making a mad dash for the open door. Fresh air hits my face, teasing me into thinking, escaping is possible. Then out of nowhere, something hard strikes the back of my head, making me stumble and lose my footing. I scream as my body gives way and I tumble down the stairs to the tarmac below, landing on the hard surface with a bone-jarring thud. A groan escapes my mouth, and my vision begins to fade once again. The last thing I see before I'm thrusted into darkness is the star-filled Montana sky. Then my thoughts drift to Nikolai. I hope he can forgive me for how stupid I was and for not listening to him.

I joltawake when a hand slaps me across my face.

I take in my surroundings to find I am no longer on the plane but in a room with metal walls. The only noise heard is the sound of my heavy breathing. Panic takes hold of my chest and squeezes when I realize I am tied to a chair, my wrists bound to the arms, and my ankles strapped to the legs. I try to wiggle free, but the bindings don't budge.

"Shall we begin," Novikoff says, stepping forward into the light. I watch as he jerks his chin toward another man who walks over to where a camera is set up on a pod, aimed directly at me. With a flick of a switch, a red light appears next to the lens.

"What are you doing," I ask, my trembling voice fills with panic as I continue to pull at my wrists, causing the rope to dig further into my flesh. My skin breaks open and starts to bleed, but still, I struggle.

"Please!" I try again. "Let me go!" My cries for help go ignored.

Finished with his tirade, Novikoff nods to a large beefy man who has been standing in the corner. My breathing picks up, and my eyes dart back and forth between the two. "What are you doing?" My chest heaves. Neither of the men answers me. The bigger man steps up to me, his face blank, and his eyes empty. There is no warning when the first blow strikes, hitting me in my stomach. I cough and wheeze as all the air is forced from my lungs by his fist. There is no time to recover when I am wrenched back by the hair on my head, and a second later, a fist comes flying at my face, my body seizes up as I prepare myself for the pain that follows. And though I am no stranger to having a man raise their hand to me, nothing can prepare you for such brutality. I cry out in pain when the man hits my face with such force my head snaps back.

"Such a shame it had to come to this," Novikoff says through the sounds of my panting echoing off the walls as he comes to stand behind me. I shiver when he runs a finger up my bare arm, over my shoulder, then fists the hair at the back of my neck, forcing my head up and the one eye not swollen shut gazes into the camera where I know Nikolai is watching, and I can't stop the tears from running down my face.

"Let's see, does your new bride have any last words, shall we?" The grip on my hair tightens. "Anything you'd like to say, Mrs. Volkov?"

23

Nikolai

Several hours later, I'm sitting on our plane, heading to Russia, accompanied by my father, and three of our men. It's been almost twenty-four hours since my wife was taken. There is nothing more to do but wait. My hands are tied, and it's killing my insides, knowing how terrified she must be. My thoughts consume me as I stare out the cabin window into the vast darkness as night has fallen. My imagination tortures me—conjuring up all the things Novikoff could be doing to Leah now, and I'm not there to protect her.

The ringing of my father's phone jerks me from my growing turmoil. "Victor," he speaks into the phone. My father's expression changes, putting me on the edge of my seat. "Send it through." Are his final words before ending the call. He brings his eyes to my face, and I know whatever follows will not be pleasant to hear. "A flash drive containing Novikoff's demands was delivered to our home moments ago." My gut turns, fearing the worst. "Victor is uploading the file and sending as we speak." My father reaches for the laptop nearby and accesses the file via email. I hold my breath as he clicks.

The cabin falls silent as the video plays. A dim spotlight flickers. My wife comes into focus, tied to a chair. Fresh blood trickles from her nose, her face reddened, making me aware someone struck her. The rage I've been stewing in intensifies, and my hand's fist at my sides.

"What are you doing?" Leah's voice trembles as she tugs at her restraints. The fear in her eyes guts me. "Please," my wife pleads, "let me go," her cries like a knife to my heart. This is my fault.

Novikoff steps out of the shadows, showing his face to the camera before coming to stand behind Leah. "Seems I have something which belongs to you." Novikoff runs his finger down the side of my woman's tear-stained face. "May I extend my congratulations on your marriage? It's a shame really, someone so young, beautiful, and innocent must pay for your sins."

As difficult as it is to watch the scene play out, I will myself to not look away.

"Your grandfather," he pauses. "He was a good businessman, saw value in all prospective endeavors. My business flourished with his iron fist in control." He stares directly into the camera, his eyes narrowing. "Now, I must steal, taking what I want from those who have turned their backs on me because you severed the ties your grandfather created." Novikoff's filthy aged hand touches my woman once more. He runs his palm down her arm until he reaches her hand, slips her wedding band from her finger, and whispers in her ear, but loud enough, the camera catches his words. "Do you love him?" Tears flow down Leah's face as she stares into the camera lens. She doesn't answer him. "You fell in love with the wrong man. What happens next is your husband's doing. You see, he took something from me—killed my son when he torched one of my warehouses." Novikoff eyes the rings he holds between his fingers. "For that, he will watch you suffer." Novikoff lifts his eyes, speaking directly to me. He cocks his head. "Your wife will pay the price for the death of my son. Her pain will be your pain." He steps to the side, and I notice two large figures step into view. "Don't worry. I will not kill her right away. With luck, she will last long enough to watch her husband take his final breath." Leah's eyes dart frantically between the two large men flanking both sides of her. I know what is about to happen, and I can do nothing to stop it. His last words turn my blood cold. "Consider this my wedding gift."

The beating that follows causes my stomach to recoil, and bile to rise in my throat. Each blow my woman endures feels like a knife to my heart. I release a guttural roar, screaming at the computer screen. "Motherfucker. I will kill you."

Not long after my outburst, the video ends. "We land in thirty minutes, sir," one of our men informs, and my father's nods.

I pull a ragged breath in through my nose, trying to bring my emotions under control. "Do we have a time stamp on when this video was recorded?" I pace the floor.

My father stares at his computer. "Six hours ago." Closing his laptop, he approaches me. "Control the rage. Right now, Leah needs you to be level headed and thinking clearly. Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment." His hand clamps down on my shoulder, and he looks me in the eyes. "Leah is a strong woman. She will fight for her life. We will get her back."

Thirty minutes later, the plane touches down on the tarmac. When we deboard the flight, an army of our men are waiting for us. Victor steps out in front of them. "We just got word Novikoff, and at least two dozen of his men are held up down at the shipping yard. I've sent two soldiers to keep watch. They will report back with more information when it becomes available."

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