Page 83 of Cruel Russian King
Konstantin's voice snapped me back to the present. “They may have blocked all the main security cameras, but I tapped every other feed I could find: dash cams, nanny cams, amateur spy cams. That’s how I spotted her. It's the same bastards from the art gallery.”
I slid behind the wheel, and clipped the phone to the mount. “And you’re sure she’s there?”
“Yes. I'm watching her now through one of the guards’ cams that I was able to tap into.”
“Is she hurt?” My pulse spiked.
“She has a mark on her forehead and a few bruises, probably from the accident.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding as I tore out of the parking lot. I couldn’t wait for Yegor and Zahkar. She might look fine on the outside, but that didn’t rule out internal bleeding, or the baby being hurt. Ninel grew up in Bratva. She was stubborn as hell and would never show weakness, never let them know how badly she was injured so they could use it against her. But I prayed nothing was wrong. I needed her to be okay.
Hold on, Printsessa. I’m coming.
“How many men? So I'll know how many fucking bastards I'll have to kill.”
“Twelve. But they’re spaced out. You can slip in and out before they see you. I can’t tap their feed to block it so you'll have to stick to the shadows.”
I ground my teeth.
“Call Lev. Let them know. Keep this line open.”
“Yes, boss.”
I heard Konstantin's muffled voices on the other end as he made a few calls. But, my focus was on Ninel. She was the only thing that mattered at this point.
Twenty-five minutes later, I parked two blocks away from PhilaPort. Feet hitting the asphalt in a jog, phone pressed to my ear.
“Boss, something’s happening.” Konstantin's voice came through the speaker.
“What?”
“They’re moving her. Fucking hell. Looks like they’re planning on putting her in a crate.”
“Fuck.”
I melted into the shadows, moving fast and silent. Everyone I came across was going to fucking die. As I crawled through the shipping dock to the warehouse, I snapped the necks of two guards before they even knew I was there.
Ten more fuckers to go.
When I got close enough to the warehouse, I whispered into the phone. “I'm heading in to get her.”
“Mrs. Rykov’s brothers are on their way. So are yours.”
I cut the call and pulled out a knife.
I stepped into the warehouse, and not long after, I slashed the neck of another guard.
Fucking nine.
The further I went in the more lights were on. I slashed two more.
Fucking seven.
I was almost to the back of the warehouse when I heard talking and Ninel’s screams. I surged from the shadows, her cries fueling the rage boiling inside me.
I watched as she kicked one bastard in the groin, elbowed another in the ribs, resisting their attempt to shove her into a tiny crate. Her face was contorted in rage and her defiance lit a fire through my veins…pride and fury rolled into one.
She was in danger, but even now my eyes locked on her clothes. I was glad I’d changed her outfit last minute, because I wanted to take her on my yacht and I wanted her to be warm. The thought of her dress riding up, those bastards seeing her sweet cunt, made my blood run hotter.
