Page 25

Valentina woke up with a sharp inhale, her senses snapping to life before her mind could catch up.

Everything was dark. No―not dark. Covered.

A blindfold.

Panic shot through her immediately, her breath coming fast and shallow as she struggled against the ropes biting into her wrists. She didn’t think shoe-shopping for her wedding would turn into a nightmare. One moment, she was laughing with Irina, desperate to go home and heed Ilya’s request, and the next, she was slammed against a chest, backed into a corner, chloroform forced into her nose before she could think of defending herself.

The chair beneath her wobbled slightly with her movements, its metal frame creaking. Her heart pounded, her body stiff with fear, but she forced herself to stay still, to breathe, to think.

Think, Valentina.

The air was thick with the scent of motor oil, damp concrete, and something metallic―blood. A warehouse, maybe? Some kind of storage facility?

Her stomach twisted.

The baby. Irina.

She fought against the rising terror, shifting in her restraints, testing their strength. Too tight. Her fingers were already numb. She clenched and unclenched them, trying to keep the blood flowing.

A noise―subtle, but there. Breathing. Shallow, ragged.

She wasn’t alone.

“Irina?” she tried, but her voice came out muffled. Cloth―something stuffed into her mouth. Gagged.

Fuck.

She forced herself to listen, to focus. There were footsteps in the distance, low murmurs of conversation in an accent she recognized but couldn’t quite place yet. She stilled, feigning unconsciousness, trying to piece it together.

Then―hands.

Rough, calloused fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face up. The blindfold was yanked off, and she blinked against the harsh light, her vision blurring before settling on the man in front of her.

Irish.

Recognition slammed into her. She knew these men. Not well, but enough. They weren’t enemies of her father―at least, they hadn’t been before.

So why the fuck were they here now?

And where was Irina?

She swallowed the fear pressing against her ribs and forced her breathing to slow. She needed to be smart. Play this right.

She let them see the fear in her eyes, let her body tremble just enough. Helpless. Scared. Ignorant.

If they believed she was nothing more than a frightened woman in over her head, they’d probably let their guard down.

And when they did, she’d make them regret it.

The man crouched in front of her, tilting his head as he studied her like a specimen under a microscope, a puzzle he was trying to piece together. He was lean but broad-shouldered, with sharp blue eyes and a face that might have been handsome if not for the sick amusement twisting his features.

“I guess all the Nikolai women are as beautiful as they say,” he mused, his voice laced with a thick Irish accent. There was a knife in his hand, the silver blade catching the light, glinting at the tip. He traced the blade across her throat, and she stiffened. “You’re the newest addition, aren’t you?”

Valentina said nothing, only swallowed hard, letting her eyes dart around in frantic confusion. She wasn’t faking all of it―her pulse was still erratic, her hands clammy against the tight ropes―but she made sure to look more terrified than she felt.

Another man, older, with a jagged scar running from his hairline to his upper lip, forming a little bifurcation on the flesh, leaned against a rusted metal table nearby. “Pity we can’t keep her. The Bratva would burn the city to the ground if we did.”

The first man grinned. “Aye, but we’re not keeping her. We’re just delivering a message.” The way his eyes slid to her stomach made her heart clench, and by the look on his face, he seemed to know she was pregnant.

The scarred man shot him a warning look. “Aleksander’s not a man to gamble with. If we want to earn his favor, we need to do this right.”

Aleksander.

Dread curled dip in the pits of her stomach.

So that was their angle. They weren’t here for her―they wanted to curry favor with Aleksander, the Nikolais’ enemy. The very man who almost took her life some weeks before.

And they were using her to do it.

She felt sick but kept her expression carefully blank, letting the terror linger in her wide eyes as she looked between them. “Please,” she rasped, her voice shaking. “I don’t―I don’t understand.”

The first man smirked, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin crawled. “No need to, Love.”

She flinched back just enough, like a cornered rabbit, and his smirk widened.

Fucking bastard.

Scarface sighed. “Enough. We’re wasting time.” He nodded toward the back of the warehouse. “Put them in the storage room until we figure out the handoff.”

Them.

Valentina barely held back her reaction as Irina was dragged into the light. She looked unharmed but shaken, her eyes locking onto Valentina’s instantly. Relief flooded through her, but she kept up the act, whimpering as Irina was shoved beside her.

They were untied from the chairs only to be dragged into a small, windowless room. The moment the heavy metal door slammed shut behind them, Valentina started counting the seconds. Listening. Waiting.

They left.

Or at least, they thought she was harmless enough to leave unguarded.

Amateurs.

She exhaled slowly. “Irina,” she whispered.

Irina turned to her immediately, shaking her head, her eyes wide like she knew what was going through Valentina’s head. “No, don’t. They could be outside.”

“They’re not.” Valentina shifted, twisting her hands behind her back. “They tied us too fast. Sloppy. The knot isn’t secure.”

Irina hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

A few more sharp, strategic twists, and she felt the rope slacken. Another second, and her wrists were free. She silently thanked Enrico for all the times he would teach her how to maneuver out of a knot, even when she didn’t want to learn. Her fingers burned as the blood rushed back, but she ignored it, leaning forward to free Irina next.

As soon as they were both loose, they pressed against the door, listening.

Silence.

Valentina glanced at Irina, who nodded.

They moved.

The hallway was dimly lit, shadows stretching long against the concrete walls. Their steps were silent, calculated. Years of being raised by powerful men had taught them how to move unseen.

“That should be the exit,” Irina whispered, nodding toward a metal door that was ajar.

They were almost to the door when a figure emerged from around the corner, gun raised.

“Stop.”

Valentina froze, her breath locking in her throat. The gun was pointed at her chest. No―lower.

At her stomach.

At her baby.

For the first time, true terror clawed at her. She couldn’t let anything happen to her child. To the life she and Ilya were meant to have together.

Fucking think, Valentina.

The man was tall, broad―but he had the face of a boy. Young. Unseasoned. His grip on the gun wasn’t as firm as it should have been. His stance left him vulnerable.

And it didn’t look like he was expecting her to fight back.

His finger tugged at the trigger. “Get back.”

Valentina met his gaze, eyes wide, voice trembling. “ Please …” She staggered slightly, feigning a stumble. He moved, just an inch, just enough―

She lunged.

Grabbing his wrist, she twisted hard, forcing the gun toward the ground. A shot rang out, deafening in the narrow hall. Irina yelped, but Valentina didn’t stop. She slammed her knee into the man’s groin, wrenched the gun from his gasp, and turned it on him.

He barely had time to register what had happened before she pulled the trigger without mercy. The gunshot rang out like a siren in the night, shattering the silence.

The bullet hit him square in the chest. He dropped.

Valentina’s hands shook, but she forced herself to breathe. Forced herself to focus. Adrenaline sent blood racing to her brain.

Irina stared at her, wide-eyed. “Holy shit.”

There was stillness for a split second. Then there were shouts, footsteps pounding against the concrete floor.

“Fuck,” Valentina cursed, grabbing Irina’s wrist and yanking her forward. “Run.”

They bolted.

Behind them, the heavy slam of a door being thrown open echoed through the warehouse, followed by furious Irish voices.

“Get them!”

“Don’t fucking let them get away!”

The sharp crack of gunfire split the air.

Valentina ducked, dragging Irina with her as they sprinted toward the exit. Bullets ricocheted off metal, the deafening clang ringing in her ears, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t think.

Pure carnal adrenaline drove her forward.

She reached for the exit just as the two men rounded the corner, guns raised.

She spun, raised her own stolen weapon, and fired.

One shot, two―she didn’t know if she hit them, but it was enough to make them jerk back, enough to make them hesitate.

That was all she needed.

She shoved through the exit, hauling Irina out with her, and slammed the door shut. They were still somewhere in the warehouse, but at least they were away from them.

A split second later, fists pounded against the metal, shouts muffled through the thick frame, gunshots firing.

Valentina didn’t wait to see if they would break through. She grabbed Irina’s hand and ran.