Page 43 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

RORY

M y whole body goes rigid. My grip tightens around the remote, and the sound of the news report—Anatoly Volkov’s arrest, the biggest win of my career—fades into static.

The world feels like it spins around me as I turn to face my brother.

“What do you mean?” My voice comes out sharp, edged with something dangerous, but Lucky doesn’t even flinch. He just looks grim, shoulders tense like he already knows I’m not going to like what he has to say.

“Mark called,” he says, stepping closer. “He’s worried about Clary. She asked him to dig into Callie’s stalker, and he found out the guy’s in Russian territory. Might even be connected to the Bratva.”

My stomach drops. Fuck.

“She went to check it out,” Lucky continues. “Told Mark she’d handle it.”

A slow, creeping dread wraps around my spine, tightening like a noose. Clary, on her own, walking straight into enemy territory? I already know this is bad.

But storming into Russian territory while the whole city’s on high alert after Anatoly’s arrest?

That’s a death sentence. The Russians are out for blood, and if they so much as smell an Irishman on their side of town right now, she’ll have a dozen guns aimed at her head before she can even take a breath.

I grit my teeth. Every instinct in me is screaming to move, to go, to find her right fucking now, but I can’t afford to be stupid. I can’t get myself killed before I even have a plan.

“Shit.” I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face. “We need to be smart about this.”

“ Fuck .” My pulse is hammering. I shove off the couch, pacing fast, my hands flexing at my sides. My mind is already running a million miles an hour, but none of it feels fast enough.

We were just figuring things out. I was trying to be the man I thought she wanted. But I pushed her away, and now she might be in danger because she didn’t think she could tell me before waltzing into enemy territory on a fool’s errand.

What if they already have her? What if they’re torturing her, or worse? My stomach churns. I feel sick.

As though sensing my rising panic, I hear my brother’s voice cut through the fog.

“Rory. We’ll get her back,” Lucky says, jaw clenched, voice steady and sure. But it doesn’t help. It can’t help because he doesn’t get it. Clary is out there, alone, in their hands, and I… I…

“ How ?” I snap, rounding on him. “Tell me, how , Lucky? We don’t know where the fuck she is, we don’t know who has her. She could already be?—”

I stop myself. I can’t say it. I won’t.

“She’s not dead.” Lucky's voice is firm, like he’s daring me to argue. “She’s not .”

I clench my jaw so tight it hurts. My hands are shaking.

Lucky exhales, running a hand through his hair. “What about Lev? He knows the Russians inside and out. We can use him.”

I bark out a bitter laugh. “Lev’s probably on a fucking plane right now. Taking his family and running as far from this city as he can get. You think he’d stick around after what we did to him?”

Lucky doesn’t have an answer to that.

I shake my head. "I should’ve gone after her that day, dammit. I should’ve fucking stopped her…” My voice cracks on the words. My chest is too tight, my thoughts moving too fast, slipping through my fingers like water.

Lucky steps in front of me, gripping my shoulder, forcing me to stop moving. “We’re gonna get her back.”

“How, Lucky?” I rasp, my throat raw. “Tell me how.”

His grip tightens. “We figure it out. One step at a time. But right now? You need to fucking breathe, Rory.”

I shove him off, dragging both hands through my hair. Breathe? How the fuck am I supposed to breathe?

Clary is gone.

And I have no idea where to start looking.

I yank my phone out so fast I nearly drop it, fingers fumbling as I pull up Clary’s number. I hit call.

One ring.

Two.

Then—voicemail.

“Fuck!” I slam my fist against the table so hard the lamp rattles. I hit redial.

Nothing.

I try again. And again. And again. Every time, it goes straight to voicemail.

“Rory.” Lucky’s voice cuts through the storm in my head. He’s at my side now, hands up like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Panicking isn’t gonna help.”

I whip around. “Oh, and what the fuck will, Lucky?” My voice is raw, my heart hammering. “Because unless you’ve got a goddamn miracle up your sleeve, she’s gone, and we don’t even know where to fucking start!”

“We start by tracking her.”

I stop pacing. “What?”

Lucky is already moving, sliding into my desk chair and pulling my laptop toward him.

“Clary’s phone might be off, but that doesn’t mean it’s invisible.

” He cracks his knuckles, eyes locked on the screen.

“If it was on when she went into Russian territory, I can get a rough location off the last cell tower it pinged.”

I swallow hard, stepping closer. “You can do that?”

“I can do a lot of shit you don’t know about,” he mutters, fingers flying across the keyboard.

I hover behind him, every muscle in my body wired tight as he works. The only sound in the room is the rapid clicking of keys and the sharp thump of my heartbeat in my ears.

“C’mon, c’mon…Yes! Got something.”

I lean over his shoulder, barely breathing. “Where?”

Lucky’s jaw tightens. “Russian territory, alright." His eyes flick up to me. “Deep in it, looks like.”

My stomach drops. I already knew it. But hearing it confirmed feels like a death sentence. Hands curling into fists, my nails dig into my palms as I push myself to think. Fuck. Think, Rory. Think !

We know where she is—roughly. That should be a good thing. But it doesn’t do shit if I can’t get to her without turning this into an all-out war.

"Okay," Lucky says, still typing. "We’ve got a location. What’s the move?"

I open my mouth, then close it. I don’t fucking know. My instinct is to tear through the streets, guns blazing, but that’ll only get Clary and me killed.

I could call in reinforcements. I have guys in the area, people who could be there fast. But if I make that call, it won’t just be them who finds her. The second word gets out that an Irish crew is sniffing around Russian territory, every Bratva soldier in the city is gonna be on high alert.

Clary’s already in deep. I can’t make it worse.

Lucky watches me, waiting for an answer. I rake a hand through my hair, my pulse pounding. Think, goddammit .

“We can’t send anyone in.” The words taste like acid.

Lucky frowns. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because the second the Bratva catches wind of this, Clary stops being just some girl who wandered into their territory. She becomes a fucking target—a pawn, leverage, bait. Who the fuck knows? But whatever they do to her after that? It’ll be worse than whatever they’ve got planned now.”

Lucky exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair. “So, what, then? We just sit here with our dicks in our hands and hope for the best?”

I shake my head. “I’m going in,” I say, clutching my phone tightly in my hand.

Clary is in danger. Our baby is in danger. And it’s my fault.

I wasn’t there when she needed me. I kept pushing her away, kept holding her at arm’s length like a coward, telling myself it was for her own good. But she’s never needed my protection.

All those years, I thought she was weak, that she needed someone to shield her. But she was always stronger than I gave her credit for. Stronger than I ever fucking deserved. And I was too blind to see it.

Fuck.

I could lose her right now, and the thought makes me sick, makes me realize just how much I took her for granted.

This can’t be how it ends.

But maybe— maybe —she’ll be okay. She’s strong, so strong. Strong enough to go after a damn stalker on her own just to prove it.

And I let her feel like she had to. All because I couldn’t get out of my own way. All because I thought I had to prove to everyone that I could run the show, that I didn’t need anyone else, that it could be just me, shouldering the burden of being head of the family.

And it turns out that all this time, I’ve been running away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me because of that. What’s worse is, some part of me knew that deep down, in my bones, Clary doesn’t need me. She’s never needed me.

I’m the one who needs her. But it could be too late. Now she could be?—

But Lucky snaps his fingers, shaking his head as though something just occurred to him. “Kellan.”

I blink at him. “What about him?”

“He and Aleksey used to be tight, right? I know that they stopped speaking after everything went down last year, but maybe we can get Kellan to try to talk to Aleksey and plead for him to return Clary to us safely.”

I hesitate. It’s not the worst idea. If there’s even a chance Kellan can get through to Aleksey, it might be our only shot at getting Clary out without bloodshed.

“And what if Aleksey doesn’t give a shit about old Kellan anymore?” I ask, voice tight. “What if this just puts a target on Kellan’s back, too?”

Lucky shrugs. “Then he’ll handle it. You know Kellan. He’s not gonna stand by while anyone in our family is in danger. And if this goes south, at least we’ll know where Aleksey stands before you go storming in there alone.”

I exhale hard, my pulse still racing. Fuck. I don’t like relying on anyone else to get shit done—especially not when Clary’s life is on the line. But if this can work, if Kellan can make Aleksey listen…

I scrub a hand over my jaw. “Fine. Call him.”

Lucky doesn’t waste a second. He grabs his phone, dialing fast. I listen to the rings, my gut twisting with every second that passes.

Then Kellan picks up. “This had better be important.”

Lucky doesn’t even flinch. “Clary’s in trouble. We need your help.”

Then Kellan inhales sharply. “Fuck. Tell me everything.”

Lucky and I pace the room, tension thick between us. My phone feels like a live wire in my hand, and when it finally buzzes, I answer before the first ring finishes.

"Tell me you’ve got something," I snap.

Kellan exhales. "Aleksey wants to talk to you himself, Rory."

My stomach drops. “That means he has her.” There’s silence on the other end, and Kellan doesn’t say anything to dispute me. I clench my jaw, my blood boiling. “Fine. Get me on the phone with him.”

Kellan hesitates. “Be careful, Rory.”

The line goes dead.

I lower the phone, my grip tight. Lucky watches me, his expression grim. “This could be a trap.”

I nod once, my pulse pounding. “Yeah.”

But if Aleksey has Clary, I don’t give a damn.