Page 153 of The Last Hope

“Selina, calm down. We’ll find them, I promise you !” Nikolai said, holding me tighter. But I heard nothing. Felt nothing. Only the crushing, burning need to be with my babies.

“Mikhail !” I kept calling, my sobs turning into hoarse cries. My voice broke, faded into a whisper—until everything went black.

Chapter forty

Nikolai

I looked at my wife’s motionless body on the bed in our cabin as Sienna gently stroked her hair.

“Andrei,” she murmured again, and I felt myself falter.

“The helicopters are here,” Roman said as he reached the door of the cabin where I stood. I didn’t dare enter—didn’t dare approach her or touch her.

Once again, I had failed in my duty. Failed in my promise.

They had come silently in the night, killed six of our guards, disabled the engines of our boats to keep us from following them, and kidnapped the twins—Rafael and Mikhail—who had been sleeping in the same cabin.

Right under our noses. Without us sensing a thing.

Or almost nothing. Because my wife had known. A mother always knows—always feels it.

“Let’s go,” I said, stepping forward toward the helipad where Sasha, Grigori, and a dozen of our men were waiting, dressed in the same dark uniforms as mine and armed to the teeth. Elif was there too.

“Lorenzo confirmed Antonio is on the yacht, but a helicopter is on its way to pick them up,” Sasha said, handing me two guns which I strapped to my back.

“Be careful. We’ll meet in Singapore or Sochi,” Grigori added, placing a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Bring my babies home safe… and come back in one piece. All of you,” Elif whispered, kissing Roman on the cheek, her eyes glistening as they landed on me.

“Stay close to her until I return, will you?” I asked.

She nodded and embraced me. “I won’t take my eyes off her until you’re back. I promise,” she murmured against my neck.

With a heavy heart but unshakable resolve, I climbed into the helicopter, which took off, followed by the second one.

Soon, we were flying over the sea, leaving behind the paradise island where I had lived the best days of my life.

“Roman will lead the operation,” I said through my headset as we neared the yacht’s coordinates—where the boys and Antonio were supposed to be. It was the most logical choice—he was the only one with enough field experience and had led countless operations before.

My brother nodded from across the cabin.

“Based on our satellite images, it’s a two-deck yacht with a bridge and captain’s cabin. Delta team takes the bridge and captain’s quarters. Beta clears the lower deck. Alpha sweeps the main deck. Check your earpieces. Follow orders without hesitation.”

We all nodded, testing our equipment one last time.

“We’re at the drop point,” the pilot announced an hour later. It was the location where we would jump to avoid being detected by the Italians.

Roman opened the side door and jumped into the water without hesitation. One by one, we followed, plunging into the dark, cold sea.

I gritted my teeth at the impact, sharper than expected. Without surfacing, I swam toward the coordinates flashing on my digital watch—just a few meters from the drop point. After about ten minutes, the yacht finally appeared before us.

“Delta, port side. Beta, starboard. Alpha, stern,” Roman instructed through the comms. I followed him toward the stern, both of us part of Alpha. Sasha moved off to the right with Beta.

Silently, the four of us climbed out of the water. Roman signaled us to stay low as we heard footsteps approaching from the lower decks.

In one fluid motion, my brother slid beside the door, and when a guard stepped through, he grabbed him by the throat. The man reached for his weapon, but I caught his arm, twisting it as I landed a punch to his face. Roman then snapped his neck without a word.

He dragged the body under the stairs and covered it with a tarp before drawing his weapon and leading us down the stairs. We followed, guns raised.

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