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I don’t blink.

Not once.

I am so fucking focused.

The second I pull up the surveillance stream from my portable terminal, time stops.

There.

There she is.

My wife.

My Diamond Girl.

Stepping outside the fucking security perimeter, just for a breath of fresh air.

Just for a second.

She’s glowing, wrapped in that glittering tulle, her skin like spun light.

Sparkling like a goddamn gem.

And then he touches her.

That motherfucker.

Emerging from the tree line like a fucking ghost— how the hell did he bypass us?

I want answers, but they can wait.

I force myself to watch, a snarl spilling from my lips as I witness what he does next.

How he breaches the perimeter like the fucking cockroach he is.

A sedative cloth.

A chokehold.

The moment her body goes limp, I stop breathing.

Now, some people have the nerve to ask if I see differently out of my eyes because they’re two different colors.

Idiots.

No, I don’t see any fucking differently than you do.

Except for now.

Because now?

Red .

That’s all I see.

Not colors.

Not details.

Not distance, angles, or obstacles.

Just one fucking thing.

The man who stole my wife.

And I swear to every god that ever existed— he’s not going to walk away.

Not after touching her.

Not after scaring her.

Not after daring to think she could ever belong to anyone but me.

He doesn’t know what he’s done.

But he’s about to learn.

Pain.

Terror.

And regret.

That’s what I’m bringing.

And when I’m done?

There won’t be enough left of him for even the goddamn rats.

Forcing myself to learn everything I can from the security feed, I continue to watch.

Every inch of me goes still, then tightens with lethal intent.

“We got him,” I say, standing so fast the chair crashes behind me.

The others know. They feel it in the air. The room shifts.

The Volkovs are already moving.

Destiny is wailing somewhere in the background.

Nico Jr. is flexing his fists.

Marat grinds his teeth so hard I swear I hear enamel snap.

“Send the address to everyone,” Adrik mutters, already checking his weapon.

Sleek Glock. Muffled click. No hesitation.

He’s a goddamn executioner in tailored slacks.

“Nobody touches him but me,” I growl.

We load up.

Multiple cars.

Coordinated as fuck.

Behind me, I know they’re there. The Volkov Clan. The family.

My family now.

Andres and Sammy Ramirez, the Fury boys, my cousin Connor, Liam, Onyx and my guys.

Everyone is armed.

Everyone is ready.

And me?

I’m already gone.

Behind the wheel, I shatter every traffic law written and unwritten.

Red lights, one-way streets, sidewalks— none of it matters.

I need my Lucy back.

Unhurt.

Unharmed.

Now.

Pedal to the metal, tires screaming, we race through the Lower East Side, the building in question a decaying husk at the end of a forgotten block— part warehouse, part tomb.

I hacked my way into the city grid, tracked it through traffic cameras.

She’s here.

I can feel her inside.

And God help the motherfucker who touched her.

Because I won’t stop at pain.

I won’t stop until his screams are the last thing he hears before I silence him for good.