Page 85 of Masked Seduction

“You think I don’t know that? I’m still in control. I’ll be precise. I’ll also be ruthless.”

They accept it. We are all built from old Bratva rules: family, honor, vengeance measured in blood.

I end the call just as the asphalt shifts into suburbia. Henderson’s sleepy cul-de-sacs sprawl beneath dimly lit streetlamps. Too many turns, too many places to hide. The Escalades could’ve vanished into any driveway.

My phone buzzes with a text from Nico.

Remember.Tomorrow, noon. Don’t be late. Bring the brothers-in-law only—no extras. She’ll be the guest of honor.

My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel harder.

Another buzz, this time a photo attachment. It’s Jenna, wrists zip-tied, seated in the back of a car. Her cheek is still red from where he slapped her.

Fury consumes me.

I toss the phone to the passenger seat before I pulverize it. I need to think. Nico’s weakness is vanity. He wants a spectacle, wants me to feel cornered.

I’ll give him what he wants.

Everybody knows what happens when you corner an animal that feels threatened.

Back at my penthouse, I pour two fingers of vodka but don’t drink it. I stare out at the glitter of the Strip, my mind racing.

Jenna. My bright, blazing woman. I caged my emotions, telling myself distance would keep her safe. Fool’s logic—wolves smell love like fresh blood.

I grab a burner phone and dial a number I haven’t used in years.

A gravelly voice answers in Russian. “Pakhan.”

“Sergei. I need a favor. Tonight.”

“Name it.”

“Need eyes on a convoy. Black Escalades. License digits inbound. Find it. I want location, security headcount, guard rotations.” I pause. “No civilians harmed.”

“Understood.” He doesn’t ask questions.

Next, I send a text to Denis.

Pull warehouse 17C—toy shipment. Load crates marked “vodka.” Deliver to my storehouse by 4 a.m. The crates contain ballistic plates, suppressed rifles, and GPS scramblers. If Nico wants a meeting, we’re showing up prepared.

The night stretches thin. I pace the floors, replaying every moment of Jenna’s abduction in my head. She remained strong even when terror swam in her eyes. The way she tried to bite Nico. The way she broke free and slapped him. Pride mixed with fear knot my chest.

I imagine her locked up in some gaudy room at the Agosti estate, Nico’s ego dripping off the walls. She’ll be scared, but she won’t fold. My lioness.

I vow right then and there that she will never again attend a public dinner without half a platoon watching. She will never doubt her worth, never fear the shadows I walk in. She will carry my name and my protection.

Sergei texts at midnight.

Convoy spotted an hour ago stopped near Lake Las Vegas. Two SUVs, nine men, one bound female, one medic.Visual lost, but we’ll track them down.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Jenna’s alive.

I fire back a reply.

Eyes on. Radio silence until dawn.

Then I force myself to sit. To plan. Rage is like a candle—it burns bright, burns fast, then leaves you blind. Jenna deserves better than blind vengeance; she deserves me at my sharpest.