Page 43 of Doomed (Blackwood Brothers #2)

KNOX

A s I reach my front door, I find it broken in, part of the frame splintered. Anger hits first. If someone hurts her, I’ll kill the mother fucker. With the urgent need to lay eyes on Bianca, I enter my place, the only thought in my head—getting to her.

I place my keys onto the marble counter quietly, moving further into the apartment. There’s no sign of Bianca, and my anger is flooding my veins faster than lava spilling from a volcano.

As I move through the living room, I catch a scent in the air that doesn’t belong—cologne, unfamiliar and sharp.

The door to the bedroom is ajar. I push it open and freeze.

The sheets are torn from the bed. A lamp lies shattered on the floor. And Bianca—my Bianca—is gone.

I scan the room, taking in every detail. The balcony door stands slightly open, curtains billowing in the breeze. Bianca would never leave it that way.

A flash of blue catches my eye. I kneel down, picking up a length of silk ribbon from where it’s twisted on the floor. The same blue as in her photos. The same blue she was wrapping herself in for me.

My fingers tighten around the ribbon until my knuckles turn white.

“Fuck!” I slam my fist into the wall, drywall crumbling under the impact. Pain shoots through my hand, but I barely notice it.

This isn’t just a break-in. This is personal. Someone took her—took what’s mine.

I find another ribbon near the door, partially torn like she’d been fighting. I can picture it—Bianca struggling, these fuckers ripping at the ribbons she’d so carefully arranged for me.

The playful Knox, the joker my brothers always dismiss, evaporates. In his place stands the monster I’ve always kept caged except in the most extreme circumstances.

I press the ribbon to my face, inhaling her scent mixed with something foreign. Something I recognize

Orlov’s strong fucking cologne.

My vision blurs red. The tightness in my chest isn’t panic—it’s pure, focused rage. I don’t shout. I don’t throw things. I go dangerously still.

They didn’t just take Bianca. They took her while she was preparing a surprise for me. While she was vulnerable. Waiting for me.

I pull out my phone and dial Xavier.

“They have her,” I say, my voice unnaturally calm. “Orlov has Bianca.”

I pace the bedroom, ribbon clutched in my fist, inhaling Bianca’s scent mixed with that bastard’s cologne.

My cock hardens despite my rage—or because of it.

The thought of another man’s hands on her, touching the skin only I should touch, seeing what only I should see—it ignites a savage fury in me.

She was waiting for me. In blue silk. On my fucking bed.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Xavier says. “Get back here. Now.”

I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s right. Going in blind means Bianca pays the price.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

When I walk into the warehouse, Vane and Xavier are already waiting. Xavier’s eyes narrow at the blood on my knuckles from punching the wall.

“Sit down,” Xavier commands.

I remain standing. “We’re wasting time.”

“We need a plan,” Vane says. “You charging in there like a bull will get her killed.”

“They touched my woman. If a single hair is out of place….” My voice is barely human. “They took her when she was—” I can’t finish. The image of Bianca wrapped in ribbons for me, only for me, floods my mind again.

“Remember the Hunt,” Xavier says, his voice cutting through my rage. “How did you find her then?”

The memory hits me—tracking Bianca through the maze, the thrill of the chase, my absolute certainty I would find her.

“You were clever,” Vane adds. “You knew exactly where she’d go, what she’d do. You read her. You can read Orlov the same way.”

“Channel that same focus,” Xavier says. “You’re not just some impulsive fuck-up, Knox. You’re a hunter. A predator. Act like one.”

They’re right. Fuck, I hate when they’re right.

I inhale deeply, focusing my energy on the analytical. Every detail counts. I can’t let my fear of losing her cause me to fail in finding her before it’s too late. Blind fury won’t get Bianca back—it’ll just get her hurt. Or worse.

“Fine.” I spit the word out, finally dropping into a chair. “We need surveillance, floor plans, guard rotations.”

“That’s more like it,” Xavier says, his voice cool and approving.

I glance down at the blue ribbon clutched in my fist. The silk is crushed, wrinkled from my grip, just like my control. I carefully smooth it out across my thigh, the motion helping me think.

“Orlov’s not an idiot,” Vane says, leaning against the table. “He’d expect us to hit his main compound.”

“Which means he’d take her somewhere unexpected,” I finish the thought, my mind finally clearing. “A secondary location, somewhere off our radar.”

The warehouse door swings open, and Landon strides in. His face is hard, eyes sharp with focus. He takes in the scene—me with the ribbon, my brothers in battle mode—and understands immediately.

“Orlov has Bianca,” I tell him before he can ask.

Landon doesn’t waste time with bullshit sympathy. Instead, he drops a phone on the table in front of me.

“If you want to find her, it won’t be hard,” he says. “I know exactly where Ilya would be keeping her.”

My head snaps up. “Where?”

“The old Ivanov estate on the east side. It’s technically owned by one of his shell companies, but it’s off the books enough that he thinks we don’t know about it.” Landon’s eyes meet mine. “It’s where he keeps things he doesn’t want found until he’s ready to reveal them.”

“Things,” I repeat, the word bitter on my tongue. Bianca isn’t a fucking thing.

“How certain are you?” Xavier asks.

“One hundred percent,” Landon replies. “I’ve had eyes on him since he first contacted us. It’s his favorite spot for hostages he plans to use as leverage.”

“How hard is it to infiltrate?” I ask, smoothing the blue ribbon between my fingers. The image of Bianca wrapped in these ribbons, waiting for me while those fuckers broke in—I push it down. Focus. Plan.

Landon crosses his arms. “Not easy. The estate has cameras, guards, the works. But Ilya’s a bit cocky. He doesn’t think anyone knows about it, which means he won’t have as much security there. Easier to penetrate its walls.”

“Penetrate how?” I lean forward.

“There’s a service entrance on the south side.

Minimal coverage. And he rotates his guard shifts at predictable intervals,” Landon explains.

“We can get in, but we need a good, effective plan. No room for improvisation or fuck-ups. I know that she is your woman, but you are going to have to keep your shit in check. It won’t do her any good if you go in kicking down doors and busting heads.

Not a single one of us blames you for needing that, but we have to plan smarter, not just punch harder. ”

Xavier’s eyes narrow. “Before we storm the castle, what do you think Orlov is going to demand in exchange for Bianca if we don’t go get her?”

“He’ll want the carnival cut out and an exclusive deal to supply,” Landon answers without hesitation. “That’s what this is about. He thought he could intimidate us and the carnival crew into it, but we wouldn’t back down. So, he’s taken Bianca as leverage.”

“That’s not happening,” Xavier says flatly.

“Agreed,” Vane nods. “We don’t negotiate with these fuckers.”

“Never,” I say, tucking the ribbon into my pocket. The carnival crew provides quality product at fair prices. Orlov’s shit is stepped on, and he’s a fucking asshole.

“Even if we wanted to make that deal,” Landon adds, “Orlov would just see it as weakness. He’d keep pushing for more.”

“Then we go in,” I say. “Tonight.”

Landon clears his throat, cutting through the tension. “Didn’t you hear? We need a solid plan. We can’t just storm in there guns blazing.”

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth might crack. Every second we waste is another second Bianca’s with those Russian fucking animals. The blue ribbon burns in my pocket, a constant reminder of what I stand to lose.

I lean forward with my palms flat on the table.

“We’ve got six hours until sundown. Let’s plan this shit out now.

Fuck only knows what they’ve done or will do to her while they have her, and I’ll be damned if she spends a minute more than is necessary in their hands.

He took her as a bargaining chip; it’s time he learns our women aren’t a thing to leverage. ”

Landon stares at me, his eyes calculating as always. That’s his thing—being cautious and thinking ten steps ahead while I’m ready to kick down the fucking door. Right now, though, even I know rushing in would be suicide—for Bianca and me.

He holds my gaze for a long moment, like he’s assessing whether I’m actually capable of following a plan rather than my dick or my temper. Finally, he gives a slight nod.

“Better order coffee and food in,” he says, already pulling out his phone. “We won’t have any time to rest once this starts.”

He grabs his laptop from his messenger bag and powers it up, fingers flying across the keyboard before the screen even fully brightens. Within seconds, he’s projecting building schematics onto the wall.

“The Ivanov estate,” he explains, enlarging the blueprints. “Three floors, basement, eight exterior guards rotating on thirty-minute intervals, interior security unknown, but likely minimal given how off-the-books this place is.”

I stare at the blue lines of the building layout, mentally tracing entry and exit points, imagining Bianca somewhere inside. Is she scared? Is she hurt? The thought makes my blood boil all over again.

“Where would he keep her?” I ask, forcing myself to focus on the plan, not the rage.

Landon zooms in on the third floor. “Master suite or one of the adjacent rooms. Ilya always keeps high-value assets close.”

High-value assets. Like she’s a fucking commodity.

I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles white as I stare at the blueprints. My rage burns like acid in my veins, but I force it down. Bianca needs calm Knox, not impulsive Knox. Easier said than done for me. But this isn’t for me, it’s for her. So, I rein my shit in.

“South entrance gives us the best shot,” I say, tracing the route with my finger. “We need a distraction at the front gate.”

Xavier nods. “I’ll handle that. I can draw enough attention to pull some guards away.”

“I’ll take point on the approach,” Vane adds, leaning over the table. “Two-man teams. Knox and I go in first, Landon provides tech support to disable security, and a second team follows as backup. We’ll have to get Jenson in on this. Has anyone called him?”

Landon’s fingers fly across his keyboard. “I can hack their security feed, loop old footage. Give us a fifteen-minute window before they realize anything is going on.”

For once, we’re not bickering or competing. We’re focused on one goal: getting Bianca back.

“Weapons?” I ask.

“Already covered,” Xavier says, pulling out his phone. “Marcus is bringing a full arsenal. Suppressors, body armor, the works.”

There’s a doorbell at the warehouse?

“Uber Eats,” he explains, returning with bags of food and a drink carrier with four large coffees.

“Perfect timing,” Vane says, grabbing a coffee and passing the others around.

We eat quickly, barely tasting the food, while finalizing the details. Xavier outlines guard positions, Vane maps our approach vectors, and Landon creates digital backdoors into Orlov’s security system.

I contribute where needed, but find myself staring at the blueprint section marked “Master Suite.” That’s where she is. I can feel it.

“You good?” Xavier asks, noticing my silence.

“I will be,” I answer, “when she’s safe.”

As the others hash out final details, I step away to the window, Bianca’s blue ribbon wound through my fingers. Night is falling. Soon we’ll move.

I’m coming for you, Bianca. I made you mine during the Hunt, claimed you as my prey, but I failed to protect you. Never again.

When I get her back—not if, when—I’ll keep her so close that nothing will ever harm her. I’ll burn down the fucking world before I let anyone take my girl from me again.