Page 59 of Brutal Reign (Bratva Kings #3)

CHAPTER

FORTY-SEVEN

PAVEL

The moment I watch Hope leave to meet Chen, unease tightens in my chest like a fist.

“Hope is heading to the ground floor,” I report to the team. “I want constant surveillance. No one loses sight of her.”

Everyone acknowledges.

Roman nods toward the back hallway, and we move swiftly through the club’s service corridors.

Our destination is a specially constructed hiding space.

It’s a narrow chamber built directly behind the VIP bathroom’s back wall.

We had contractors install a false partition, designed to look like solid drywall but actually reinforced with hinges, allowing us to burst through when Hope gives the signal.

The space is barely wide enough for two men, cramped and airless, but it provides perfect surveillance of the bathroom.

“I have eyes on Hope,” Niko confirms as Roman and I settle into the tight space. “She’s on the main floor, moving through the crowd toward the target.”

My palms are slick with sweat. I wipe them against my pants, then check my pistol’s chamber. The metallic slide makes too much noise in our confined hiding spot, but I can’t help the compulsion to verify the weapon is ready.

“You okay?” Roman asks, his brows drawn tight.

“Fine.” I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe slowly. My mind keeps replaying the moment I told Hope I loved her, the first time either of us said the words. Hell of a time to bare my soul, right before sending her into danger, but I needed to say it.

“Hope’s made contact,” Niko updates over comms. “They’re embracing. It looks like a happy reunion. Now she’s leading him toward the VIP staircase. Chen’s following right behind her. Maxim, you should have them on the security feeds.”

I let out a tight breath and tilt my head back against the wall. Almost there. Another few minutes, and this nightmare ends.

But Maxim’s silence stretches too long.

“Maxim, confirm visual on Hope and Chen,” I demand.

More silence. My pulse spikes.

I move toward the false wall, ready to tear it down and go find her, but Roman’s hand clamps on my shoulder. “Give it a minute.”

Maxim’s voice, strained and urgent, finally comes through. “Our entire camera security system just went dark. Every camera, every monitor, is down. It’s like someone hit a kill switch from outside. We’re bringing backup systems online, but it will take two minutes.”

Shit. Two fucking minutes is an eternity.

Before I can respond, Eva cuts in. “Holy shit. A helicopter is approaching the roof. Repeat: unauthorized aircraft approaching the building!”

Roman’s gaze locks with mine, and I see my own terror reflected there.

“Vadim, can you take out that helicopter?” I bark into my comm.

“Negative,” comes his frustrated response. “Can’t get a clean shot while it’s in motion; there’s too much risk of it crashing into the street below and killing a bunch of people. Soon as it lands, I’ll drop it.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Cameras back online.” Maxim’s voice crackles through. “Hope and Chen are in the back stairwell with at least six of his men, all armed. I think Chen’s dragging her up to the roof.”

The pieces slam together in my mind; that helicopter is their exit strategy. All our planning, all our contingencies, every fucking detail we obsessed over, and it still went to shit.

Self-loathing burns through my chest like acid. I was supposed to protect her, ensure nothing like this happened. Instead, my worst nightmare is unfolding, but damn if I’ll let that chopper lift off with her inside it.

“Let’s go,” I bark, signaling Roman.

We hit the stairwell door and shoulder through, pounding upward, concrete walls closing around us as we climb three steps at a time. The roof is five flights away. If she reaches it, I may never see her again.

Dinara’s orders crackle through the comms. “All units, converge on the roof immediately! Hostiles in the back stairwell. Backup is needed!”

We’re halfway up the second flight when Roman’s hand slams into my chest, stopping me cold. He points to shadows moving on the wall above us, followed by the metallic click of weapons being readied.

Motherfucker.

Roman yanks me back around the corner of the landing just as automatic weapons light up the stairwell where we’d been standing seconds before, the sound deafening in the enclosed concrete space.

Chunks of wall explode around us, showering us with dust and debris that sting my eyes and fill my lungs.

I draw my pistol and lean around the corner, squeezing off controlled bursts at the two hostiles crouched on the landing above us. My first shots catch one in his chest, and he pitches forward with a grunt, his body tumbling down the stairs in a bloody heap.

Roman uses the opening to pivot right to get a different angle on the second gunman. His shots ring out one after the other, and the hostile drops like a stone.

“Move!” I shout, and we vault over the corpses, our boots slipping a little in the spreading pool of blood as we press upward toward the third floor.

More gunfire erupts from above as we round the corner, and a chunk of flying concrete catches my temple, opening a gash that streams blood down my jaw, but I barely register the pain through the adrenaline.

“At least two more on the fourth floor,” Roman calls out, breathing hard as he spots the muzzle flashes above us.

I press my back against the wall, keying my comm with my free hand. “Maxim, I need Hope’s exact position. Are we clear to engage on the fourth floor?”

“She’s still climbing with Chen. They’re between fourth and fifth floor now,” comes his terse reply. “You’re clear for fourth floor engagement but watch your trajectory.”

“Copy that,” I respond, then signal Roman.

We coordinate our approach carefully. I draw a tactical knife from my belt while Roman provides cover fire. When the gunman on the left leans out to return fire, I’m ready.

The blade finds its mark in his throat before he can make a sound. Roman takes his target with a suppressed double-tap that echoes quietly in the concrete stairwell.

“One more floor,” I pant. Hope’s life depends on reaching that roof.

The last two guards have positioned themselves at the roof access door, and they open fire the moment we appear on the landing. We’re forced to dive behind a concrete barrier, bullets chipping away at our cover.

“I’m empty,” Roman calls out, dropping the spent clip. “Cover me while I reload!”

I lean out from behind the barrier and empty my entire clip in controlled bursts, forcing both gunmen to duck. The moment Roman slaps a fresh magazine home, he returns fire while I reload with shaking hands.

“Radio check,” Roman says quickly during a lull. “Anyone got eyes on Hope?”

“She’s on the roof with Chen,” Eva confirms.

“We end this now,” I tell Roman. “You go right. I’ll take left. Crossfire on three.”

Roman nods, and we execute the maneuver with the coordination that comes from years of fighting together. Both assholes go down under our combined assault, their bodies hitting the concrete with dull thuds.

I’ve barely caught my breath when Vadim’s voice comes through. “I have the helicopter in my crosshairs. Should I take the shot?”

My brain immediately does the math, and I think about the aircraft spinning out of control, crashing into the area where Hope is standing. “No! Hope is on that roof. Do not shoot. Repeat: do not shoot.”

“Copy that.”

Heavy footsteps echo up the stairwell. It’s our backup finally arriving. But we can’t wait. Roman and I barrel forward through the rooftop door, guns drawn. Blood and adrenaline are pumping hard through my veins.

The rooftop is empty. When I look up, a helicopter is rising into the darkness.

“Hope!” I roar, the sound tearing from my throat. The aircraft is already too far, its lights blinking like distant stars as it carries my wife away from me.

Roman staggers up beside me, blood seeping through a graze on his shoulder. “Fuck. We were so close.”

Close . The word twists like a razor in my chest, a reminder of how completely I failed her.

Something breaks inside me. I slam my fist into the rooftop door, metal denting under the impact. “I should have seen this coming! I should have?—”

But the words aren’t enough. Nothing is enough. I drive my fist into the door again and again, until my knuckles split and blood streaks the metal. “FUCK!” The roar, raw and animalistic, tears from my throat. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

My vision blurs with rage and something that feels like despair. She trusted me. Hope put her life in my hands, and I let them take her.

My legs give out, and I drop to one knee, gasping for air. The weight of it all crushes down on me until I can barely breathe.

Roman doesn’t try to stop me; he stands there, watching, until my rage exhausts itself and I’m leaning my forehead against the door.

“Pavel,” he finally says, his tone gentler than usual. “Look at me, brother. Look at me.”

I lift my head, chest heaving.

“Breaking your hands on that door won’t bring her back. Hope is counting on you.”

I close my eyes, forcing the panic down layer by layer. He’s right. Hope needs the strategist, the killer who’s survived two decades of war. Not the man having a temper tantrum.

As Roman tells our backup to stand down, I force myself to my feet, wipe blood from my knuckles, and give Roman a nod.

“Eva, can you track that helicopter with your drone?”

“On it,” she responds. “I’ve got eyes on the aircraft, maintaining distance so they don’t spot us.”

“Good. We need to know exactly where they’re going.”

“Vehicles are waiting out front,” Maxim instructs. “We need to move now if we’re going to catch them.”

I take one last look at the empty sky where Hope disappeared, then turn toward the door.

We thunder down the stairs, my mind already racing through possibilities. Roman, Maxim, and I pile into the first SUV while Vadim and Niko take the second with a team of soldiers. The engines roar to life, and we tear through Moscow’s streets.

“Helicopter is maintaining a steady course toward the southeast,” Eva updates. “Based on the current trajectory, they’re heading for a private airstrip about twenty kilometers outside the city.”

“Confirmed.” Dinara’s voice joins the channel. “I’m tracking flight patterns and airport manifests. There’s a private jet registered to a shell company that’s been on standby at that airstrip for the past six hours. They’re planning to leave the country.”

Fuck me.

“How long until they reach the airstrip?” Roman asks, his knuckles white where they grip the door handle.

“Helicopter will touch down in fifteen minutes,” Eva responds. “But at your current speed, you’re twenty minutes out.”

“Faster,” I bark to the driver. He can break every speed limit in the city, but I won’t miss that aircraft.

My phone buzzes with an incoming message from an unknown number. When I open it, my world comes to a standstill.

It’s a photo of Kin curled up in what looks like an airplane seat, fast asleep, wearing the same pajamas he was wearing tonight. He looks so small, so vulnerable, that protective fury explodes in my chest.

The message below the photo reads:

The boy dies if you interfere. - Simon.

Simon’s on that plane with Kin.

“Fuck!” I roar, slamming my fist into the seat so hard the leather splits.

“What?” Maxim asks, but I can barely hear him over the roar of blood in my ears.

“They have Kin,” I snarl, showing him the photo. “They have him.”

The SUV goes silent except for the rumble of the engine. Roman stares at the image, his face draining of color. “How is that possible? Kin is back at the compou?—”

The implications hit us all at once. If Simon has Kin, his men breached the compound. Our families, our children, everyone we love could be in danger.

“Christ,” Maxim breathes, reaching for his phone. “Kira. The kids.”

Roman looks sick with terror as he dials Liza.

I feel as helpless as they both look.

My mind spirals through the possibilities. Are they taking Hope to where Kin is? Taking both of the people I love away from me? The photo burns into my vision. That little boy who means so much to me, who trusts me to keep him safe, and I failed him too.

I close my eyes, trying to think past the terror and fury warring in my chest.

“What do you see at the airstrip?” I ask Eva.

“Helicopter is about to touch down,” she reports. “There’s a jet waiting on the tarmac.”

“How long until that jet takes off?”

“Hard to say,” Dinara responds. “Could be five to ten minutes, depending on flight clearance and preflight checks.”

“Push that accelerator harder,” I tell the driver.

Maxim lowers his phone and announces, “Everyone else is safe and accounted for.”

Relief fills me. The only thing that could make tonight worse is if something happened to the others.

“The breach was just your house, Pavel. A single operative came through Kin’s bedroom window, using climbing gear. Knocked him out with some kind of gas. Security cameras show a two-minute loop in the feed. This was a professional ghost extraction, no alarms triggered.”

My jaw clenches. “How the fuck did they get past our perimeter?”

“Could be a thermal camouflage suit,” Maxim continues, his face hard. “Whoever planned this knew our patrol schedule and exploited the guard rotation during shift change.”

“We’ll need to overhaul security,” Roman says darkly.

“I’ve got eyes on the airstrip through Eva’s drone,” Dinara reports. “I count twelve hostiles positioned around the aircraft, plus crew. They’re definitely preparing for departure.”

My hands clench into fists. “Any way to delay them?”

“I can hack into the regional power grid and cut electricity to the airstrip. That’ll shut down runway lights and ground control systems. Most pilots won’t take off without proper lighting.”

“Do it.”

“Give me a few minutes.”

Roman checks his pistol, sliding a fresh magazine into place. “How do you want to do this?”

“Carefully,” I reply, watching Maxim strap on a Kevlar vest. “Hope and Kin cannot get hurt; no matter what, we don’t take any chances. We take Simon and Chen alive unless there’s no other way.”

I want their blood coating my hands, want to feel their lives drain away beneath my fingers.

The world outside becomes a streak of muted colors. We’re racing against time, against the brutal mathematics of pursuit and escape.

I lean back in my seat, closing my eyes, trying to block out the fears and doubts crowding my mind. If that plane disappears with my entire world on board, I don’t know how I’ll survive it. Hope and Kin aren’t just my heart; they’re my reason for existing. Without them, nothing matters.

I’m coming, angel moy. Both of you. Hold on just a little longer.