Page 28 of Bound Vows (Empire City Syndicate #3)

Andrei

Waking up chained to a warehouse support beam with gunfire erupting around me proves that even the most careful security arrangements have their weaknesses, especially when the threat comes from someone you’ve trusted for eight years.

“Maya!” I roar as consciousness crashes back, and I spot my wife pressed against a concrete pillar with blood darkening her sweater. “Are you hit?”

“Just a shoulder wound,” she calls back as she returns fire at Katarina. “Nothing fatal, though my aim is shit with my off-hand!”

The warehouse has transformed into a battlefield as Max Mastroni’s soldiers pour through multiple entrances, engaging a team of mercenaries that Katarina had waiting in reserve.

Professional gunmen in tactical gear advance through the maze, and I realize this confrontation has been planned for a while.

“Where’s Katarina?” I test the chains securing my wrists to the beam behind me.

“Moving toward the back exit!” Maya fires twice more before ducking back behind cover. “She’s not going to stick around for the family reunion!”

I wrench against the restraints with enough force to send fire through my shoulders, but whatever Katarina used to secure me was designed for this situation.

Heavy chains wrapped multiple times around both my wrists and the beam are locked with industrial padlocks that won’t yield to brute strength.

The sound of footsteps makes me look up to see Vincent Russo advancing through the gunfight. He moves from cover to cover while laying down suppressing fire, closing the distance between us despite the chaos erupting.

I don’t know how the hell he got here, but I thank God for it.

“Vincent!” I call to get his attention. “Maya’s hit, and Katarina’s running!”

“I see her!” He slides behind the same pillar where I’m chained and begins examining the locks on my restraints. “Bolt cutters?”

“Whatever works fastest.”

Vincent produces a compact angle grinder from his vest and fires up the motor before applying the cutting wheel to the chain links closest to my wrists. Sparks fly as metal shrieks against metal, and within thirty seconds, I’m free enough to slip the remaining chains over my hands.

“Go!” Vincent shouts over the continuing gunfire. “We’ll handle the cleanup.”

I sprint toward Maya while flexing circulation back into my hands, but when I reach the concrete pillar, I find nothing except blood droplets leading toward the warehouse’s rear exit.

Through the maze of machinery, I catch a glimpse of Katarina dragging Maya toward a door marked with emergency lighting.

“She’s got Maya!” I alert Vincent before pursuing them through the labyrinth. “Moving toward the back of the building.”

My bare feet slip on the concrete floor as I dodge conveyor belts and storage containers, following the blood trail Maya is leaving behind.

The emergency exit is open when I reach it, revealing a loading dock that overlooks the East River and the maze of shipping piers that line this section of Queens.

“You’re too late!” Katarina’s voice carries from somewhere below the dock. “She’s mine now, and if you follow us, she dies!”

I reach the edge of the loading platform and spot them fifty yards away on a concrete pier where a speedboat is idling. Katarina has Maya pressed against her side with a gun to her head, using my wounded wife as a human shield while she backs toward the waiting vessel.

“Let her go!” I call out, my voice cracking.

Katarina reaches the boat and begins forcing Maya aboard. “She took my future, so I’m taking hers!”

Maya stumbles as Katarina shoves her into the speedboat, and I can see how much blood she’s lost from the way she struggles to maintain her balance. The shoulder wound needs medical attention, and being dragged around a warehouse and forced into a boat chase isn’t improving her condition.

“Maya!” I reach for my phone to call for backup, but realize Katarina’s people stripped me of everything while I was unconscious. “Hold on!”

“Stop being dramatic and come get me,” Maya complains. “Though maybe hurry, because I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded.”

Katarina guns the speedboat engine and races away from the pier, spray arcing behind her. The vessel’s powerful motor easily outpaces anything I could commandeer from the dock, but the direction she’s heading takes her deeper into the shipping channel rather than toward open water.

I sprint back into the warehouse and find Vincent coordinating with his men as they secure the remaining mercenaries. “I need a boat.”

“What kind of boat?”

“Fast enough to catch Katarina before she kills Maya or finds a way off the river.” I grab Vincent’s phone and begin dialing the harbor patrol number I memorized years ago. “She’s heading toward the shipping lanes with a significant head start!”

“There’s a police pursuit boat docked three piers south,” one of Vincent’s men interjects. “I saw it when we were setting up the perimeter.”

“Can you hotwire it?”

“Does the Pope shit on a gold toilet?”

We race toward the police dock while I coordinate with harbor patrol dispatch to close off the river access points. Katarina might have planned this escape route, but she’s fled into a waterway that can be sealed at both ends if we move quickly enough.

The police pursuit boat starts on the first try after Vincent’s man works his magic on the ignition system, and I take the helm while eyeing the river for signs of the speedboat.

The East River stretches ahead like a dark highway lined with industrial piers and shipping facilities, offering dozens of potential hiding spots.

“There.” Vincent points toward a wake pattern visible near the Manhattan Bridge supports. “She’s moving fast but erratically.”

I push the pursuit throttle forward and feel the hull lift as we accelerate toward the bridge. The police vessel has more power than Katarina’s speedboat, but she has enough of a head start to make the chase challenging.

The gap between us closes as we approach the bridge, and I see Maya struggling with Katarina on the bow. Even wounded and weakened from blood loss, my wife is making her kidnapper’s life difficult.

“Maya’s fighting back,” Vincent observes through binoculars. “She’s interfering with Katarina’s steering.”

As if summoned by his words, Katarina’s speedboat veers hard to starboard and slams into one of the concrete pier supports with enough force to launch both women into the frigid water. The impact sounds across the water like a gunshot, and debris from the shattered bow spreads across the surface.

“Christ.” I push our boat even harder as I search the water for signs of survivors. “Do you see them?”

“Maya’s about thirty yards from the pier, but she’s struggling.” Vincent strips off his jacket while I bring us alongside the debris field. “Katarina’s floating face-down near the impact point.”

The water temperature this time of year will kill both women within minutes if we don’t get them out. Maya’s gunshot wound makes her situation even more critical, and when I squint, I see her fighting to keep her head above the surface.

I don’t waste time considering options or weighing alternatives. The choice between saving Maya or Katarina isn’t a choice.

I dive over the side of the pursuit boat and swim toward Maya, eating up the distance between us. The river water is icy against my skin, and I imagine how it affects Maya with her injuries and blood loss.

“Hold on.” I reach her just as she’s slipping beneath the surface. “I’ve got you.”

Maya’s lips are already blue from the cold, and she shivers violently as I wrap my arm around her chest and begin swimming back toward the boat. “Katarina?”

“Vincent’s handling it,” I lie as I focus on getting Maya to safety before hypothermia sets in. “Just concentrate on staying conscious.”

Vincent hauls Maya aboard the pursuit boat and strips off her wet clothes while I climb back onto the deck. She’s shaking so hard her body is vibrating.

“We need an ambulance.” I wrap Maya in Vincent’s jacket as I examine her injuries. “Gunshot wound, blood loss, and now hypothermia.”

“Max has already called.” Vincent finishes securing Maya in the boat’s emergency blankets. “EMS is meeting us at the South Street pier.”

I look back toward where Katarina went into the water, but the surface shows no signs of survivors. Either she’s gone under, or she’s reached one of the pier supports and is hiding until we leave.

“Go back for her,” Maya whispers through chattering teeth. “You have to try.”

“I’m not leaving you to save the woman who just tried to kill us.”

“She’s Elena’s sister. You promised Elena that you’d protect her.” Maya squeezes my hand with what little strength she has left. “Don’t break that promise because of me.”

The morality of the situation makes my head spin, but Maya’s right about the promise I made to Elena. Even after everything Katarina has done, abandoning her to drown feels like betraying my dead wife’s final wish.

“I’ll just be a minute.”

“Are you insane?” Vincent secures the boat’s controls. “That woman just tried to murder your wife.”

“That woman is the last connection I have to Elena, and I promised to protect her.” I look at Maya, who nods despite her condition.

I dive back into the freezing water and swim toward the pier where Katarina disappeared, fighting against the cold that’s already affecting my coordination. The concrete support offers handholds and sheltered areas where someone could survive the impact and initial submersion.

But when I search every hiding spot around the pier structure, I find nothing but debris from the shattered speedboat. Either Katarina sank after the crash, or she reached shore somewhere downstream while we focused on Maya’s rescue.

By the time I return to the pursuit boat, my core temperature has dropped enough to make climbing aboard a struggle that requires Vincent’s assistance. Maya watches through half-closed eyes as I collapse onto the deck beside her.

“Did you find her?” she asks.

“No. She’s either dead, or she escaped while we were distracted.” I wrap myself in the remaining emergency blanket while Vincent pilots us toward the South Street pier. “Though given her talent for survival and manipulation, I’m betting on escape.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For making you choose between saving me and keeping your promise to Elena.” Maya’s voice grows weaker as shock and blood loss take their toll. “You shouldn’t have had to make that choice.”

“There was no choice to make. You’re my wife, my future, and the woman I love more than my life.

” The words tumble out before I can stop them, carrying a truth I’ve been fighting since the moment we met.

I watch Maya’s eyes widen despite her weakened state, and I realize this is the first time I’ve spoken those words aloud to anyone since Elena.

“I love you.” I need her to hear it through the chaos and cold and fear. “I love your defiance, your strength, even when you’re bleeding in my arms. I love that you threw yourself through a window rather than accept captivity, and I love that you told me to save the woman who tried to kill you.”

I squeeze her hand, feeling how cold her fingers are, and how fragile she seems in this moment despite being the strongest person I know.

“Elena would understand why I chose you. She’d understand that some loves are worth breaking promises for and risking everything for.

She’d want me to choose the woman who brought me back to life over the ghost of what we used to have. ”

Maya’s lips part as if she wants to respond, but her strength is fading fast. I lean closer to press my forehead against hers. “Stay with me, Piccola. I just found the courage to tell you I love you; don’t you dare leave me now.”

The ambulance waits at the pier with paramedics who immediately take over Maya’s care the moment we dock.

They work to stabilize her condition before transport, checking vital signs and establishing IV access while preparing her for emergency surgery, while I watch on, feeling more helpless than I have since Elena’s death.

“Gunshot wound to the right shoulder, significant blood loss, and hypothermia from submersion in the East River,” the lead paramedic reports to his partner. “We need to move fast.”

I climb into the ambulance beside Maya as they load her stretcher, ignoring the paramedic’s protests about space limitations and protocol. Nobody will separate me from my wife until I know she will survive.

As the ambulance races through Queens toward the hospital, I hold Maya’s hand and pray to whatever gods protect wives of criminals that I haven’t lost the only woman who’s ever made me believe in redemption.