Page 54 of Dark Bratva Christmas
My head fucking spins. My chest feels tight. I feel the need to gruesomely murder a whole goddamn city over this—and I just might. In a panic, I scan the area, searching for any signs that she might be here.
But there’s no body.
“I bet they took her,” Nikolai says, his voice softening to something almost unrecognizable for him. “Someone sees your weak spot,moy staryy drug(my old friend).”
I shake my head.I don’t have a weak spot.But the moment the thought comes out, I realize it’s a fucking lie. I’m in denial. A part of my soulisa weak spot.
Fuck.And that’s how they got to me.
“We need to find her.” I spin around to Nik, who’s going through Bogdin’s phone still. “She’s got to be with someone, somewhere.”
“Everyone wants her gone.” Nik tosses the phone to the ground. “So, I’m not sure where to even start, but you should’ve started with not having all your people in one place. That’s never smart.”
“I was focused on protecting her,” I say through gritted teeth as I head back in the direction of the house. “We need to see if they leftanysurvivors at all.”
“Got it.” Nikolai falls into step beside me. “You know,” he muses as we go, “I sold a big batch of shit recently. It was a bigger order than normal.”
“Glad your business is going so goddamn well,” I snap at him, nearly taking the back door off the hinges as I step inside. I shake my head at my friend, and then stop, hearing a muffled sound.
My heart skips a beat as I chase it down, thudding down the steps to the basement. It’s locked from the outside, and I quickly slide the lever across, kicking in the door. I already know I won’t find Catarina, but at least there’s witnesses.
“Boss!” Helena calls from where she’s bound in the corner with the other house staff. “They took her! I watched them through the window.”
I nod, ignoring the sinking feeling that comes with that—but also the confirmation does mean that there’s a chance she’s actually alive.
And that’s the best I can hope for right now.
“Who was it?” I demand, as Nikolai starts removing the tape from some of their mouths. “Did you recognize anyone at all?”
Not a fucking soul has a word to say.
“Tell me what the men looked like,” I push, kicking one of the gardeners with the toe of my engineer boot. “Now.”
“Some of them spoke Italian,” someone admits. “But it was poor. They weren’t fluent.”
“And there was another man who looked familiar,” Helena says, suddenly. “But I can’t put my finger on it.”
“They’re useless.” Nikolai confirms my thoughts, meeting my gaze. “You’ve lost your goddamn closest crew members and the others won’t be able to come assist you in time as they’re spread out. On top of that, no one even knows who’s doing all of this.”
I shake my head, turning around and leaving them all in the basement, while Nikolai starts undoing the binds on them.
I pace the floor of the foyer, unsure where to even begin. My gut doesn’t seem to be in sync with my brain at this point, and honestly…
I feel fucking lost. All my intel is gone.
“Security cameras were trashed,” Nikolai mentions, gesturing to the cut wires I can see from where I’m standing. “Someone knew what they were doing. This is efficient, cutthroat level bullshit.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. “We have to be missing something.”
“Then let’s fucking find it.” Nikolai meets my gaze. “I’m supposed to be neutral, but you know I’d fucking die for you.”
I nod. “Everyone else already has.” And as the words leave my lips, I can see it in my old friend’s face. “What is it?”
“I made a big arms deal,” he repeats his earlier information. “I didn’t think much of it at the time, you know. It’s just something that occasionally happens… before an all-out war. But ever since your wedding to Catarina Petrov, everyone has been quiet. I assumed they were plotting, or maybe for now we’d be stable.”
“And?” I’m not following him.
“Mauricio Vitale bought the guns,” he says, but then hesitates. “But he seemed unsure of exactly what he was doing. He’s an easy kid to read. He’s not as seasoned as us. He makes mischief, not war.”
