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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“ I sabella,” Ivan Zotov said.

And I went completely still and stared at him, standing across the office next to my father’s dead body.

I struggled to process his words and make sense of them in my mind. “You want Isabella?”

He nodded.

“Are you fucking insane?”

Zotov’s face remained impassive, his eyes cold and calculating. “It’s a simple trade, Salvini. Your cooperation and Isabella for the other women.”

I clenched my fist, itching to connect it with his jaw. “Absolutely not. Isabella isn’t some bargaining chip, you sick bastard. She’s my sister. Why on earth would you ever think I’d agree to something like this?”

“And yet, here you are, desperate enough to listen to me and in no real position to put in a counteroffer,” Zotov replied, his lips curling into a smirk. “I got you by the balls, Salvini. And you fucking know it.”

My stomach hardened, and I glared at him. He was right, and I hated him for it. I was desperate. The women were out there somewhere, possibly in danger, and I was completely out of options. The weight of my failure pressed down on me, threatening to crush what little sanity I had left.

“What exactly do you want with Isabella?” I growled, buying time as I tried to think of a way out of this mess. What did I have that Zotov wanted?

Zotov shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “That’s between me and her. All you need to know is that I’m holding all the cards, and I’m your only option to see your wife again.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the display. Hawk’s name was on the screen. Did that mean they were all recovered? I accepted the call and focused back on Zotov. “What?”

Hawk’s voice came through, urgent and clear. “Birdie escaped. We’ve got the location. We’ll be there in 30.”

My heart raced as hope surged through me. Without uttering a word, I handed the phone to Hero and turned back to Zotov.

Got you, asshole.

I stared at him, my face a mask of indifference despite the turmoil raging inside me. I needed to keep him talking, to buy time until Hawk and the team arrived. While every fiber inside of me wanted to kill the bastard.

I forced myself to keep my face relaxed and to remain calm.”Why should I believe you even have the girls?” I asked, my voice low and controlled. “For all I know, you’re bluffing, using the information you gained by eavesdropping on the conversation with my father.”

Zotov’s lips curled into a smirk. Without breaking eye contact, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek metal phone. His fingers danced across the screen for a moment before he turned it towards me.

My heart stopped as a video of Jemma appeared on the screen. She was in a stark, white room, her hands running along the featureless walls. Her face was a mixture of confusion and fear.

“Before you ask, this is a live-stream,” Zotov said.

It took every ounce of self-control not to react visibly. Adrenaline rushed through my body, and it took all my might to suppress the rage boiling inside of me, threatening to explode any second.

I focused on Jemma. She looked unharmed, a little scared, but otherwise okay. My chest tightened. I wanted nothing more than to reach through the screen and pull her into my arms and into safety.

I looked up at Zotov. Alternatively, I would be satisfied with tearing him apart with my bare hands for daring to touch her.

I took a measured exhale and held myself straight but relaxed. I couldn’t let him see how much this affected me, how he’d found my weak spot and hit me right where it hurt the most.

I kept my expression neutral and loosened my jaw and fists. “Interesting,” I said, my voice betraying nothing of the fury I felt .

Zotov turned back the phone, his thumb brushing over the screen before he slipped it into his pocket.

The image of Jemma, alone and scared in that white room, would forever remain burned on my mind. I pushed down the urge to place my hands around his neck and slowly watch how the life got squeezed out of him.

Fuck. Now wasn’t the time to lose control.

“In what way do you want my cooperation?” I asked, keeping my voice level. I needed to understand his game, to find any weakness I could exploit. I underestimated Zotov—something that couldn’t happen again.

Zotov met my eyes, the cold calculation in his making them gleam like steel. “That depends on how much you value your wife and sisters,” he replied smoothly.

We stood there, two predators facing each other, each trying to read the other’s next move. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

After a long moment, Zotov reached into his jacket.

I tensed, ready for anything, but he simply pulled out a small rectangle of paper—a business card.

I expected it to be the same business card Matt had shown me a couple of days ago—the one with the symbol. But as I took it from his hand, I realized it was different. This wasn’t just another piece of the puzzle; it was something new entirely.

The card was stainless steel. The symbol was the same, but there was no name on it—just a number. “You’re too cool to write your name on your card?”

Zotov’s lips curled into a smirk. “Sadly, I have to go now. But if you come to the conclusion that you want your precious wife back, you know where to call.” He nodded at the card.

My fingers itched to lash out at this man who dared to use Jemma as a bargaining chip, to slit his throat with the piece of metal—wouldn’t that be satisfying?

Instead, I forced myself to remain still, my voice low and dangerous. “And what makes you think I’ll just let you walk out of here?”

His gaze met mine, cold amusement dancing in the depths of his dark eyes. “Because I have your sisters and your girl, Salvini. And I just watched you with your father, ready to sacrifice everything for her.”

The truth of his words hit me like a physical blow. I had shown my hand, revealed just how far I was willing to go for Jemma. And now that Zotov thought he held all the cards, I was paying for it. Had my father been right? Was love making me weak?

Nope. Because Hawk and the men were on their way. I just needed Zotov to believe he was still on top.

I stood there, frozen in place, and watched as Zotov turned to leave. Every instinct screamed at me to stop him, to make him pay for what he’d done. But the image of Jemma in that stark, white room flashed through my mind, and I knew I couldn’t risk her safety or the time Hawk needed to get to them.

As Zotov reached the door, he glanced back at me, his smirk widening. “I’ve been wondering what they see in you,” he paused. “Now I know.” He nodded at the card in my hand. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I barely held myself back, my blood boiling with rage. Every fiber of my being screamed to lunge at him, to make him pay .

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

But as soon as I had them back, that cocky bastard wouldn’t know what hit him.

If he wanted me as his enemy, so be it. I never backed down from a fight. But destroying him would be my absolute pleasure.

As soon as Zotov was out of earshot, I turned to Hero. “Have him followed,” I growled. “I want to know every step. Do not lose sight of that bastard.”

Hero nodded, his eyes hard with understanding. He handed me back my phone and slipped out after Zotov.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. Then, without wasting another second, I pulled out my phone and headed for the stairs leading to the roof and the helipad.

My footsteps echoed in the stairwell as I took the steps two at a time, my mind already racing ahead to what needed to be done. The call connected. “There’s a body in my father’s office. Make sure to erase Hero and me from the footage; we were never here,” I said.

“Will do,” Marco Bianchi said without hesitation. “Anything else?”

A thought sparked in my mind, and I grinned. “Let’s make sure to report his death and give them the footage of Zotov.”

I ended the call as I burst onto the rooftop, the wind whipping around me, then I dialed Hawk. “Talk to me,” I barked as soon as he picked up.

“We’ve got the coordinates,” Hawk’s voice came through, clear and determined. “Sending them over now. ”

I bolted across the roof and climbed into the waiting helicopter. I started the pre-flight checks with a grim smile playing on my lips.

Zotov thought he had me cornered, thought he held all the cards. But he’d made a crucial mistake—he’d underestimated us.

A surge of adrenaline zapped through me as my phone buzzed with the incoming data. I put in the coordinates, then called Hawk back. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Good,” Hawk said. “Find a rendezvous point, and let’s link up.”

“Got it; see you in a bit.” I ended the call, put on my headset, and focused on what I needed to do.

I couldn’t wait to meet Zotov again—preferably in a courtroom.

Wouldn’t that be a poetic ending to this unfortunate meetup?

To see him after I taught him exactly what a fatal error underestimating your enemy was.