Page 63 of Tattooed Heart

Elena backs away until she hits the wall, her face draining of color. She doesn’t answer.

“Try again.” I slam my hand against the wall beside her head, my face inches from hers. Her breath catches in a gasp.

“Please, Mr. Popov,” she sobs, her voice breaking. “I didn't have a choice.”

I grab her arm with enough force to make her wince and drag her through the mansion, fury pulsing in my veins. The staff avert their eyes as we pass, no one daring to intervene. I shove open the doors to Aleksandr's office without knocking.

My brother stands behind his massive desk, arms crossed over his chest. Talia is already inside, phone in hand, speaking rapidly to someone on the other end.

“She helped them,” I growl, pushing Elena forward. “She took Sandy out of the mansion.”

Aleksandr's gaze sharpens to a razor's edge directed at the trembling maid. “Sit,” he hisses.

Elena collapses into the chair across from his desk, visibly shaking.

“Talk,” Aleksandr commands, his voice deceptively calm.

Tears stream down her face, creating dark tracks of mascara on her pale skin. “They have my daughter, Juliana. Morozov...he showed me pictures of her tied up. Said if I didn't help him get Miss Sandy out, he'd kill Juliana. I didn't know what else to do.”

My jaw clenches so hard I can feel my teeth grinding. “Where did they take her?” I demand, every word laced with the promise of violence.

“I don't know! They didn't tell me.” Her voice rises hysterically. “They just gave me instructions. A burner phone. A gun. A van would be waiting by the north perimeter. That's all I knew, I swear it.”

“You betrayed this house,” Aleksandr states flatly. “You put a pregnant woman in the hands of monsters.”

“They gave me no choice,” she repeats, clutching her hands together. “Just this morning, they sent me a video of Juliana. She was crying, begging for me to help her.” She fumbles in her apron and pulls out a small phone and a crumpled slip of paper. “This has a number he said to use after it was done. And this was in the packet he sent me.”

Talia takes the paper and hands it to Lev, who appears silently in the doorway. He vanishes with it, already making calls.

“Where is the gun?” I bellow, startling Elena out of her tear-stained confession.

“It is in my room,” she cringes away from me. “Hidden under the mattress.”

Ivan moves without being asked, slipping out to retrieve it.

I turn to Aleksandr, my mind racing through possibilities. “We trace the number. Every known property Morozov has touched—we raid them. No more waiting. No more games.”

Aleksandr nods once, decisively. “We hit them hard. And we don't stop until we find her.”

“He touched what's mine,” I snarl, my voice like gravel. “I'm going to bury him for it.”

Aleksandr looks at me, something ancient and violent in his eyes. It was the look Otets had worn when enemies threatened the family. “Then let's start digging the grave.”

The plan forms between us without needing to speak it aloud. Aleksandr picks up his phone, barking orders for our security team to assemble.

“Talia,” I say, turning to her. “Get Yuri. Tell him to bring everything he has on Morozov's properties. Real estate holdings, businesses, family connections. Anything that might give us a location.”

She nods and leaves immediately, her phone already at her ear.

Ivan returns with the gun. “9mm,” he reports. “Unfired.”

I pace the length of the office, my mind sifting through information. Morozov is too smart to keep Sandy in an obvious place. The warehouse properties listed under his name willbe decoys. He will want a secluded location, preferably with multiple escape routes. Somewhere personal.

“The phone,” I say suddenly, turning back to Elena. “Give me the burner.”

She hands it over with trembling fingers. It is a basic model designed to be untraceable and disposable. But everyone makes mistakes.

I scroll through the call log. It’s empty. The text messages are also empty. But, in the contacts, there is a single entry labeled simply “M.”

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