Page 132 of Mafia King's Broken Vow

The seconds drag into minutes as Nikolai waits for Aleksander to answer. My heart pounds against my ribcage, a battle drum of dread and anticipation. The longer the silence stretches, the tighter the knot in my gut becomes.

“No answer,” Nikolai says finally, his brow furrowing. He tries again.

Nothing.

I pull out my own phone and dial Mila’s number, knowing it’s futile even as I press the buttons. Straight to voicemail, her message in my ear both comfort and torment: “You’ve reachedDr. Mila Agapova. Please leave your name and number, and I will return your call as soon as possible.”

“They’re compromised,” I say, already moving toward the door. “Aleksander always picks up when you call.”

“There’s probably a poor signal at the safe house,” Igor dismisses, but I catch concern flickering across his face. “The location is deliberately remote.”

“Remote enough for Pablo to isolate them,” I counter, mind racing through tactical scenarios. “You know his methods, Igor. Cut communications first, then strike.”

Nikolai is already on another line, barking orders for a security team to mobilize. I don’t wait. Every second counts.

Igor barks orders into his phone, mobilizing strike teams. “ETA forty minutes to the safe house,” he snaps to Nikolai. “Full tactical response.”

“Which safe house?” I demand again, this time with a deadly calm that has both men looking at me with newfound wariness.

Nikolai hesitates, then makes a decision. “The old Sokolov hunting lodge. North of?—”

“I know where it is.” I’m already calculating travel time, entry points, and defensive vulnerabilities. “I’ll need weapons.”

“Wait for backup,” Nikolai orders without conviction. He knows as well as I do that waiting could mean death.

“There’s no time.” I move to the cabinet behind his desk, entering the code I memorized weeks ago despite never being given access. The panel slides open, revealing an arsenal that would make certain federal agencies raise their eyebrows.

Igor starts to protest, but I silence him with a look that promises violence if he interferes. “Your brother’s with her. And if Pablo has found them, every second we waste is blood on your hands.”

That stops him cold. For all his posturing, Igor loves his brothers. And Aleksander has always been his favorite.

I select weapons with precision—Glock 19, extra magazines, a combat knife. Muscle memory takes over, movements automatic. Nikolai nods curtly. “We’ll be right behind you.”

I don’t waste time responding, already moving toward the door with deadly purpose. The elevator is too slow, too confined, so I take the stairs, descending sixteen floors at a near-run. By the time I reach the garage, I’ve mapped out three different entry strategies for the lodge, prioritizing stealth over firepower.

Nikolai’s Audi keys are in their usual spot. I take them, knowing every second counts. I’m weaving through traffic when my phone rings. Unknown number.

“Yakov.” Just my name, but I recognize the voice and the accent instantly. Pablo.

Ice replaces the fire in my veins. “Where is she?”

His laugh is soft, utterly at odds with the sadism I know he’s capable of. “She’s entertaining my men while I wait for you, old friend.”

“Touch her, and I’ll skin you alive,” I snarl, the words delivered with the calm certainty of a man who has done worse.

“Touching? No, no. I’m a gentleman, Yakov.” His voice drops lower. “But my men…they lack my refinement. And the doctor is quite beautiful, isn’t she? Such an expressive face. I wonder what it’ll look like when?—”

“Enough.” My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. “It’s me you want. This was never about her.”

“It became about her the moment you chose her over business.” Pablo’s voice hardens. “You had a deal with us, and then you went ahead and betrayed a cartel arrangement for a woman, Yakov. Did you really think there wouldn’t be consequences?”

I accelerate onto the highway, pushing the Audi past speeds that could be considered remotely legal. “Name your terms.”

“Simple. You, for her. Unarmed. Alone.” He pauses. “You have one hour to reach the lodge. After that, I start sending pieces of her back to the Bratva as a message about the importance of respecting established agreements. Any backup, and she dies screaming. My men have orders.”

The call disconnects, and I fight the urge to throw the phone through the windshield. Instead, I dial Nikolai.

“Pablo has them. He wants me in exchange for Mila. One hour. Call off the strike team,” I bark without preamble. “He’ll kill them both if he sees Bratva colors. Give me the hour, then move in.”