Page 3 of Bratva Hostage

We enter a large storeroom where Aleksei paces around a small table strewn with blueprints. He looks up at us when we approach.

“How’s your patience?” he asks, voice dry.

“Worn out.” I point to the largest blueprint. “That’s our primary lead on Thorne’s location?”

Aleksei nods. “We narrowed it down to a property near the eastern perimeter. Our men spotted extra patrols in that sector.” He slides a photograph across the table. “Abandoned warehouse, battered trucks out front. Word is Thorne’s men have been loading them with small arms. They’re probably inside.”

The building resembles a decaying fortress with walls riddled with grime and corners blocked by junk. “Entrance points?”

“One main gate, plus a side door that looks welded shut from the outside. We’ll have to approach from the front or create our own breach.”

Maksim folds his arms. “We have the manpower to do either.”

Aleksei presses his palm flat on the blueprint. “We do, but we’ll need to avoid heavy casualties. We must retrieve Cecily safely.”

“That’s the priority,” I agree.

Aleksei’s phone buzzes, and he answers, listens briefly, then hangs up. “They’re ready.”

I give a curt nod. “Let’s get this done.”

We file out of the storeroom and into a waiting line of black SUVs. The men load up quickly. I take the front passenger seat in the lead vehicle, while Maksim sits in the back. Aleksei and a second squad follow behind. We pull away from our safehouse, merging onto a worn stretch of road. The destination is about forty minutes away, although that can change if we encounter any obstacles.

Thorne likely has at least ten to fifteen men. Armed. Desperate. They’ll fight to keep Cecily hidden, especially if they fear losing their leverage. I plan to show no mercy to anyone who stands between me and that girl’s freedom.

Maksim’s phone chirps. He answers, then says, “Akim says the perimeter scouts confirm unusual activity. Thorne’s men have doubled the watch. They’re nervous.”

I snort. “They should be.” Then I twist around to look at him. “Once we confirm Cecily’s location, you secure the exit, yes?”

“I’ll cover the retreat. We want Thorne to realize how outmatched he is.”

Our caravan speeds through side roads, passing silent blocks and rust-eaten fences. When we near the target zone, Aleksei’s SUV moves to flank our position. I roll down the window and look for any sign of watchers. I see an old billboard, a collapsed building, and faint silhouettes near chain-link barriers. That has to be Thorne’s sentry crew.

I gesture for the driver to park behind a damaged wall. We kill the engine, and Aleksei’s vehicle pulls up close. We exit and gather behind rubble.

Aleksei speaks in a low voice. “We have three visible guards by the front gate, but there could be more inside.”

“We should send a small diversion to draw them out. Once they engage, the main squad will push through.”

“I’ll handle the outside watchers with a handful of men,” Maksim offers. “Dimitri, you lead the entry team.”

Aleksei turns to me. “Use the confusion to find Cecily. We’ll pin Thorne if possible, but don’t risk losing her.”

I unclip my holster and check my pistol. “Understood. Let’s move.”

Maksim signals five men to follow him around the perimeter. I pick four to join me at the front gate. Aleksei remains at the fallback point with the rest, ready to converge once the gate is clear. I crouch behind a rusted barrel, heart steady. A younger version of me might have relished this, but now I feel only resolve. The Barkov family has lost enough. We won’t lose anyone else.

Maksim’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Going in.”

I glance at my men. “On my count.”

A distant shout pierces the air, followed by gunfire that shatters the stillness. Thorne’s sentries scramble to see the attackers. That’s our cue. I rise from cover and dash toward the gate. Two of my men flank me, weapons drawn. The first guard spins around, and I pull the trigger, aiming for his torso. He drops with a grunt, leaving the path open for us to push the gate aside.

We slip through a gap in the fence. Another guard leaps from behind a broken crate, firing blindly. Bullets spark off twisted metal. I roll behind a stack of pallets, then lean out and return fire. He stumbles, clutching his side. One of my men finishes him off with two quick shots.

“Push forward!” I bark.

When we reach the doors, they’re barricaded from the inside. One of my men, Viktor, pulls a small breaching device from his pack. He attaches it near the hinges, and we step back. A muffled blast slams the doors outward, leaving a gap large enough to slip through.

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