Page 35 of Hostage of the Russian (Nikolai Bratva Brides #7)

The world tilted sideways as rough hands dragged Azriel from the coffee shop’s back alley, her scream cut short by the filthy rag shoved between her teeth. The metallic taste of fear flooded her mouth as zip ties bit into her wrists, plastic cutting deep enough to draw blood.

“Got her. Moving to location two.” The voice was gravelly, unfamiliar, but the accent carried the same Eastern European inflection she’d grown accustomed to hearing around Kostya’s associates.

Rivals. Had to be the same group that had tried to kill them on campus, the ones Kostya and his brothers had been hunting. Her heart hammered against her ribs as they threw her into the back of a van, the impact knocking the air from her lungs.

The ride felt endless, every bump and turn sending fresh spikes of panic through her system.

She tried to memorize the route, counting seconds and turns the way she’d seen in movies, but terror made her thoughts scatter like leaves in a hurricane.

The zip ties were getting tighter, cutting off circulation to her fingers, and the gag made every breath a struggle.

When the van finally stopped, they hauled her out into the gray afternoon light.

Abandoned warehouses stretched in every direction, their broken windows like dead eyes staring down at her.

The smell of rust and decay filled her nostrils as they dragged her through a loading dock door, her feet barely touching the ground.

The warehouse interior was worse than the outside. Graffiti covered the walls in layers, gang tags and obscenities painted over each other in a chaotic mix of colors. Broken glass crunched under their feet, and somewhere in the darkness, water dripped steadily from a leaking pipe.

They shoved her against a concrete pillar, the impact sending shockwaves through her shoulder blades. One of them, a thick man with gold teeth, began securing her wrists behind the pillar with more zip ties while another kept a gun trained on her head.

“She’s awake. Good.” The voice came from the shadows, smooth and familiar in a way that made her blood freeze. “I was hoping she’d be conscious for this.”

Danny Hartford stepped into the light, and Azriel’s world tilted again.

Her father looked older, thinner, with the hollow-eyed desperation of a man who’d been running too long.

His clothes were expensive, but wrinkled; his usually perfect hair was unkempt.

But his eyes held the same cold calculation she remembered from childhood, the look that had always preceded his worst moments.

Azriel tried to speak around the gag, the sound coming out as a muffled grunt. Danny nodded to one of his men, who ripped the cloth from her mouth, taking skin with it.

“What are you doing?” The words came out as a rasp, her throat raw from screaming.

Danny smiled, and she recognized the expression. It was the same one he’d worn when he’d locked her in the basement for crying too loud, when he’d sold her bicycle to pay for his poker games, when he’d told her she was worthless and would never amount to anything.

“I’m collecting on a debt, sweetheart.” He pulled up another chair, sitting close enough that she could smell the stale cigarettes on his breath. “Your husband tried to kill me. Put a bullet in my shoulder, left me to bleed out in some godforsaken alley. All because I couldn’t pay what I owed.”

“You already paid.” The words came out stronger than she felt. “Through me. That was the deal.”

Danny laughed, the sound echoing off the warehouse walls. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I paid Kostya back by giving him something valuable. You. But then the bastard got greedy, wanted more than what was owed. Started hunting me like some kind of animal.”

“Because you betrayed him.” Azriel pulled against the restraints, feeling the plastic cut deeper. “You worked with his enemies.”

“I worked with whoever would keep me alive.” Danny’s voice hardened. “Your precious husband doesn’t understand the concept of mercy. He thinks he’s some kind of god, deciding who lives and dies. Well, now he’s going to learn what it feels like to have something taken from him.”

The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity. Her father had orchestrated this whole thing, used her as bait to draw Kostya out. The phone call, the timing, everything had been calculated to cause maximum damage.

“You used me.” The words came out flat, empty of the hurt she’d expected to feel. “Again.”

“I used what I had.” Danny shrugged. “And what I had was a daughter who apparently means something to Kostya Nikolai. Who would have thought? The girl I couldn’t give away if I tried, and she ends up being worth her weight in gold.”

Something cold settled in Azriel’s chest, a numbness that spread outward like frost. This man had never loved her, had never seen her as anything more than a tool to be used.

She’d known it intellectually, had spent years in therapy trying to process it, but hearing him say it so casually was like a knife to whatever small part of her had still hoped.

“He’s going to kill you.” She met his eyes steadily. “When Kostya finds us, he’s going to kill you, and you deserve it.”

Danny’s hand cracked across her face, the sound echoing through the warehouse. Her head snapped to the side, stars exploding behind her eyes, but she didn’t cry out. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You always were a mouthy little bitch.” He flexed his fingers, preparing to hit her again. “Maybe I should have done this years ago. Taught you some respect.”

“You tried.” Azriel turned back to face him, tasting blood where her teeth had cut her lip. “But you’re too weak to break me. You always were.”

The rage that flashed across his face was familiar, the same expression that had preceded the worst beatings of her childhood. But this time, she wasn’t a helpless little girl. This time, she could see him for what he really was, a pathetic man who’d never grown beyond his own selfishness.

“You want to know what your husband did to me?” Danny leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “He shot me in the shoulder, then left me to crawl through the mud like an animal. Me. Your own father. But he’s going to pay for that. Through you.”

“He’s not my father.” The words came out with absolute certainty. “A father protects his children. A father loves them. You’re nothing but a stranger who shares my DNA.”

Danny raised his hand again, but before he could strike, a new voice cut through the air.

“Movement on the perimeter. Three vehicles, maybe more.”

One of the men stationed by the windows lowered his binoculars, his face tight with worry. “Black SUVs. Military grade. It’s them.”

Danny smiled, his expression predatory. “Perfect. Right on schedule.” He turned back to Azriel, his eyes gleaming. “Your husband’s here, sweetheart. Time for the real show to begin.”

The warehouse erupted in activity. Men scrambled for positions, checking weapons and setting up defensive positions behind concrete pillars and machinery. Danny produced a pistol from inside his jacket, the metal gleaming dully in the filtered light.

Azriel’s heart hammered as she recognized the orchestrated nature of it all. This wasn’t just revenge, it was a trap. Danny had counted on Kostya coming for her, had planned for it. How many men did he have? How many weapons?

“You’re going to get him killed.” The realization hit her like a physical blow. “This is suicide.”

“Maybe.” Danny checked his clip with practiced ease. “But if I’m going down, I’m taking that bastard with me. And you’re going to watch.”

The first explosion shook the building, and dust rained down from the ceiling. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the staccato burst of automatic weapons fire. Shouting. Screaming. The sounds of war.

Kostya was here. And he was walking into hell.

“Please.” The word escaped before she could stop it. “Let me go. This is between you and him.”

“No, sweetheart.” Danny grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “This is exactly where you need to be. Right in the middle of it all.”

Another explosion, closer this time. The windows along the far wall shattered, sending glass cascading to the floor. Through the jagged openings, she could see muzzle flashes in the growing darkness, brief strobes of light that illuminated running figures.

The battle was moving closer.

Danny’s men were shouting to each other, their voices tight with fear and adrenaline. She could hear return fire from outside, the distinctive crack of high-powered rifles. The Nikolais had come prepared for war.

“Boss!” One of the men by the window spun around, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. “They’re inside the building. East entrance.”

“How many?” Danny didn’t look away from Azriel, his gun now pressed against her temple.

“Too many. We’re fucked, boss. We need to go.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Danny’s voice was steady, almost calm. “This ends here.”

The warehouse door exploded inward in a violent shriek of metal, fragments of steel and sparks ripping through the air like shrapnel.

The blast wave knocked two of Danny’s men clean off their feet, one screaming as a jagged sliver tore through his throat, painting the wall behind him in arterial red.

Smoke poured through the opening like a living thing, and through it came the Nikolai brothers like avenging wraiths from a blood-soaked myth.

Kostya led the charge, his eyes devoid of mercy, his face a frozen mask of fury.

His rifle barked fire and thunder, each pull of the trigger sending a body crashing to the floor.

One man took a shot to the gut, crumpling with a howl, clutching at intestines that spilled through his fingers like coiled rope.

Kostya didn’t pause. A second round punched through the man’s skull, cutting the scream short.