Page 2 of Captive Prize

I needed to hit the pilot.

If the pilot was dead, the helicopter couldn’t take off and I could kill the rest of them and retrieve Pavel.

The others would clean up the mess. I would’ve done my job and protected my cousin. Once he was home, the entire family would plan our revenge and make an example of the motherfuckers who thought they could hit the Ivanovs and live.

I circled, staying low, every shot measured. Calculated. When I got to the front, I aimed at the pilot, ready to fire—until she turned around and the most intense green eyes stared back at me.

A woman.

My heart stopped as I stared at her.

I didn’t shoot women.

Ivanov men did not kill women unless it was absolutely necessary.

There was always another way.

Under the circumstances, her death would have been warranted, but she caught me off guard long enough that I hesitated.

I had never hesitated before.

But I had also never seen eyes so green they seemed to look right through me.

I was frozen.

Stuck in place long enough for her to whip out a pistol of her own and start shooting.

I dodged behind a rock and exchanged gunfire. Intending to wound, but not kill, her.

The helicopter lifted, and then disappeared into the black abyss, taking my cousin—and those otherworldly emerald eyes—with it.

I turned and sprinted back toward the wreck.

Perhaps there was something, anything, that could give me more clues to help me find them.

As I got closer, there was movement in the passenger seat.

Christ. Pavel’s wife, Alina.

It hadn’t occurred to me to check for her in the car.

I’d been so focused…Dammit.

If I’d risked her life to save Pavel’s he’d never forgive me.

Her safety came first. Always.

The moment I approached the vehicle her eyes tracked me—barely. And in them there was the unmistakable glare of fear and panic.

“Who are you?” she rasped, pressing herself back into the passenger seat.

“I’m Roman, Pavel’s cousin.”

My eyes swept over the crushed car, then over her, cataloging injuries with clinical precision before locking onto hers. “Where did they take him?”

She pointed toward where they’d disappeared.

“Do you know who they were?”

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