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Evan Thorne’s name has been circling my desk for four months, and every new report feels like a personal affront.

I hover over the worn folder spread out in front of me, rereading details on his activities.

He’s clever, I’ll grant him that, but he’s also stupid enough to draw unwanted attention.

We just haven’t been quick enough to corner the old bastard. Today, that changes.

I reach for the top page and skim the latest intelligence.

He’s been moving from one hiding spot to another, dragging his daughter, Cecily, along.

If it weren't for my sister-in-law, Seraphina, I might have let him self-destruct on his own. But Seraphina cares deeply about her younger sister. We are family now, which means I can’t allow that concern to go unanswered.

A knock on the door interrupts me. My brother Maksim enters, carrying a slim file. He places it on my table and fixes me with a direct look.

“New developments?” I ask.

“We suspect Thorne has hired extra muscle. One of our informants caught wind of a deal he made to acquire more guns.”

“Perfect.” I tap the open folder with two fingers. “He’s arming himself for something bigger, and we can’t let him gain the upper hand. We need to secure Cecily before he turns her into a bargaining chip.”

Maksim gives a grim smile. “We both know he already has.” He thumbs the edge of the file. “Seraphina is anxious. She asked me for an update just this morning.”

“That’s why we’re launching the extraction now. No more delays. Is Aleksei ready?”

Maksim inclines his head. “He’s coordinating the team. Akim is prepping transport. Nikolai is tying up loose ends from the last run.”

“Good. Thorne’s threats have spread far enough. Time we show him what happens when he targets our family.”

Maksim and I stride out of the small office.

We pass a row of men stationed by the hallway walls.

Each belongs to our specialized group within the Barkov Bratva, trained for swift operations.

My father once called us the blade of the family, though I keep that memory locked away.

My father is gone, and now the Barkov legacy rests with Aleksei, Grigor, Nikolai, Akim, Maksim, and me.

We enter a large storeroom where Aleksei paces around a small table strewn with blueprints. He looks up at us when we approach.

“How’s your patience?” he asks, voice dry.

“Worn out.” I point to the largest blueprint. “That’s our primary lead on Thorne’s location?”

Aleksei nods. “We narrowed it down to a property near the eastern perimeter. Our men spotted extra patrols in that sector.” He slides a photograph across the table.

“Abandoned warehouse, battered trucks out front. Word is Thorne’s men have been loading them with small arms. They’re probably inside. ”

The building resembles a decaying fortress with walls riddled with grime and corners blocked by junk. “Entrance points?”

“One main gate, plus a side door that looks welded shut from the outside. We’ll have to approach from the front or create our own breach.”

Maksim folds his arms. “We have the manpower to do either.”

Aleksei presses his palm flat on the blueprint. “We do, but we’ll need to avoid heavy casualties. We must retrieve Cecily safely.”

“That’s the priority,” I agree.

Aleksei’s phone buzzes, and he answers, listens briefly, then hangs up. “They’re ready.”

I give a curt nod. “Let’s get this done.”

We file out of the storeroom and into a waiting line of black SUVs.

The men load up quickly. I take the front passenger seat in the lead vehicle, while Maksim sits in the back.

Aleksei and a second squad follow behind.

We pull away from our safehouse, merging onto a worn stretch of road.

The destination is about forty minutes away, although that can change if we encounter any obstacles.

Thorne likely has at least ten to fifteen men. Armed. Desperate. They’ll fight to keep Cecily hidden, especially if they fear losing their leverage. I plan to show no mercy to anyone who stands between me and that girl’s freedom.

Maksim’s phone chirps. He answers, then says, “Akim says the perimeter scouts confirm unusual activity. Thorne’s men have doubled the watch. They’re nervous.”

I snort. “They should be.” Then I twist around to look at him. “Once we confirm Cecily’s location, you secure the exit, yes?”

“I’ll cover the retreat. We want Thorne to realize how outmatched he is.”

Our caravan speeds through side roads, passing silent blocks and rust-eaten fences.

When we near the target zone, Aleksei’s SUV moves to flank our position.

I roll down the window and look for any sign of watchers.

I see an old billboard, a collapsed building, and faint silhouettes near chain-link barriers. That has to be Thorne’s sentry crew.

I gesture for the driver to park behind a damaged wall. We kill the engine, and Aleksei’s vehicle pulls up close. We exit and gather behind rubble.

Aleksei speaks in a low voice. “We have three visible guards by the front gate, but there could be more inside.”

“We should send a small diversion to draw them out. Once they engage, the main squad will push through.”

“I’ll handle the outside watchers with a handful of men,” Maksim offers. “Dimitri, you lead the entry team.”

Aleksei turns to me. “Use the confusion to find Cecily. We’ll pin Thorne if possible, but don’t risk losing her.”

I unclip my holster and check my pistol. “Understood. Let’s move.”

Maksim signals five men to follow him around the perimeter.

I pick four to join me at the front gate.

Aleksei remains at the fallback point with the rest, ready to converge once the gate is clear.

I crouch behind a rusted barrel, heart steady.

A younger version of me might have relished this, but now I feel only resolve.

The Barkov family has lost enough. We won’t lose anyone else.

Maksim’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Going in.”

I glance at my men. “On my count.”

A distant shout pierces the air, followed by gunfire that shatters the stillness.

Thorne’s sentries scramble to see the attackers.

That’s our cue. I rise from cover and dash toward the gate.

Two of my men flank me, weapons drawn. The first guard spins around, and I pull the trigger, aiming for his torso.

He drops with a grunt, leaving the path open for us to push the gate aside.

We slip through a gap in the fence. Another guard leaps from behind a broken crate, firing blindly. Bullets spark off twisted metal. I roll behind a stack of pallets, then lean out and return fire. He stumbles, clutching his side. One of my men finishes him off with two quick shots.

“Push forward!” I bark.

When we reach the doors, they’re barricaded from the inside. One of my men, Viktor, pulls a small breaching device from his pack. He attaches it near the hinges, and we step back. A muffled blast slams the doors outward, leaving a gap large enough to slip through.

“Go,” I command, gesturing for the men to move ahead. I follow closely behind. Inside, the hallway reeks of mildew and sweat. Overturned crates line the walls, and heavy footfalls echo from deeper in the building.

Shots ring out from behind a corner. We press against the wall just as another volley rips the air.

Viktor curses under his breath. I signal for two men to lay down cover fire, then duck around the corner.

A lone enemy stands there, rifle trembling in his grip, eyes wide at the sight of us. I shoot first. He collapses.

“Keep moving,” I snap. “Cecily must be deeper in. Maksim said Thorne’s men escorted a captive to an inner room.”

We hurry past a storage bay filled with rusting shelves. Broken glass litters the floor, crunching underfoot. Each step draws us closer to the heart of Thorne’s hideout. My earpiece crackles. Maksim’s voice: “Perimeter is secure. We’re coming in. Watch your flank.”

“Roger.” I wave my team forward. “Aleksei, how are we looking?”

His voice cuts in. “No sign of Thorne himself yet, but we’ve pinned three of his men. Finish inside. We’ll guard your rear.”

We advance down a second corridor that branches left and right. “We’ll check the next corridor. If that’s empty, we circle back to the other side. She has to be in one of these rooms.”

Gunfire erupts down the right hallway, and a pained cry follows.

My heart lurches. That could be Cecily in danger, or it could be Thorne’s men staging a last stand.

I signal the group to press on. We reach a locked door.

Voices drift from inside. One is definitely male. That could be Thorne or a lieutenant.

One of my men sets a charge on the lock, and a small explosion rattles the door.

I storm inside, pistol at the ready. Two men stand behind a desk, rifles raised.

I shoot the first one in the shoulder, sending him crashing into the wall.

The second returns fire, forcing me behind a filing cabinet.

My team fans out, pinning him from two angles.

Bullets tear into crates and metal surfaces.

Then, the gunman staggers from a shot to the leg, dropping his rifle with a clatter.

“Where’s Cecily Thorne?” I demand. He clutches his thigh and spits at the ground, refusing to speak, so I press my pistol to his forehead. “Answer.”

He glowers but clenches his jaw, glaring like he’d rather die than give in.

A scuffle behind me draws my attention. Viktor has the second man pinned, the one I clipped in the shoulder. Blood smears his shirt. Viktor growls, “Talk. Now.”

The wounded man whimpers. “Basement… She’s in the basement.”

“Which door?”

“Next hallway, last door on the left,” he gasps. “Stairs going down.”

I nod to Viktor. He knocks the man out cold with a crack to the back of the skull, then ties his hands. The other gunman slumps, likely unconscious from blood loss. Good enough. I have my target.

“Basement,” I say to the men. “Let’s go.”

We double back to the corridor, collecting the two who’d guarded our flank.

We spot a large metal door at the end, exactly as described.

Locked, of course. One of my men plants a small pry bar.

I assist, yanking the handle until it snaps.

The door creaks open, revealing a narrow stairwell.

The air is stale, reeking of old dampness.

We descend quietly, rifles raised. Halfway down, we hear footsteps overhead—Aleksei’s group entering the building. Good timing. At the bottom of the stairs, a single guard sits on an overturned crate, chewing gum. He sees us too late. I fire once. He tumbles over, completely limp.

We hurry past him toward a row of doors. My earpiece crackles again, this time with Aleksei’s voice: “We have Thorne cornered on the main floor, in an office. I’m giving him a chance to surrender.”

“Keep me updated,” I reply. “We’re about to secure Cecily.”

I test the door. Locked. I step aside and let Viktor’s partner attach a small charge.

The door blows inward. A startled yelp comes from inside.

I step through the smoke and see Cecily Thorne in the corner with her arms raised in defense and her body pressed against the wall.

Not cowering—bracing. Ready to take a hit if it comes.

I recognize her from the pictures Seraphina showed me, but she isn’t what I expected.

Medium-length, honey-brown hair that hangs loose and tangled around her shoulders, with strands clinging to her skin.

Her hazel eyes catch the little bit of light down here, shifting between green and gold as she moves her head.

She’s smaller than Seraphina—petite but not delicate—built with a kind of wiry strength that doesn’t break under pressure.

She’s been here too long.

Bruises mark her wrists. There’s a split at the corner of her mouth, and dried blood stains her skin. Her clothes, an oversized shirt and jeans that don’t fit quite right, hang loosely. Signs of weight loss over months of running and captivity.

She should look fragile. She doesn’t.

Even now, with nothing but bare walls at her back and no clear way out, there’s fire in her stare. A woman raised in violence, who knows exactly how dangerous men like me can be. And yet, she meets my gaze without a hint of fear.

Something coils in my chest, but I shake it loose and lower my pistol. “Cecily, we’re here to get you out.”

She blinks rapidly, as though uncertain whether to trust me.

“It’s Dimitri Barkov,” I clarify. “Seraphina’s brother-in-law.”

At that, her eyes widen. She rises on shaky legs. “You found me?”

“We did.” I beckon her forward. “Can you walk?”

She swallows. “Yes… I think so.” She edges closer. I notice more bruises on her wrists. That only increases my resolve to see Thorne pay for this.

One of my men checks the hallway. “All clear,” he informs us.

I set a steady hand on Cecily’s elbow. “Stay behind us. We’re leaving.

She nods. “Where’s my father?”

“Upstairs. My brothers have him cornered.” I pause, searching her face. “Don’t worry. You’re our priority.”

We guide Cecily out of the basement, stepping past the guard I shot. She doesn’t flinch at the sight. Doesn’t slow down. The girl has been in the thick of this world long enough to know what survival looks like.

Upstairs, more of our men sweep the halls. Aleksei steps out from a side room, and I note the irritation carved deep into every line on his face.

“Thorne slipped through a hidden exit,” he grumbles. “Breach in the wall. Must’ve had it set up for a quick escape.”

I let out a sharp exhale. Not unexpected for a worm like him, but still infuriating. “Doesn’t matter. We have her.”

She stands between me and Viktor, and Aleksei meets her eyes. “You’ll be safe now.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “Safe,” she snickers.

“Your father’s on the run again,” I point out. “Without you. No leverage. He’ll be desperate.”

Her posture loosens a bit, but she nods. She understands what that means.

“He won’t stop,” she fills in the gaps. “Not until I’m back under his control.”

She’s right. Evan Thorne doesn’t let go of what’s his, not unless he’s forced to. If I let her walk out of here now, she won’t get far before he finds her again.

I can’t allow that.

I glance at Aleksei, and in one look, we settle the matter. This isn’t just about Cecily anymore. Keeping her close is the only way to neutralize Thorne’s power. She’s the last chain he has to this war. We take her out of play, and his grip weakens.

I look back at her now. “We’ll protect you.”

“Oh, really?” she scoffs. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“You’re coming with me,” I declare.

A beat of silence. Then she lifts her chin and opens her mouth to say something. No doubt to refuse and make this difficult, if the look on her face is any indication. But I don’t give her time to argue. I turn and nod toward the door. “Let’s go.”