Page 73 of Sweet Obsession

He shifted like a man on coals. “Nothing. She hasn’t left the compound.”

“She’s being watched?”

“She moves like someone who knows it.”

Of course she does. She learned from me.

It was past midnight when the call came. Not Luna. Worse. My father.

His voice in Russian was a gunshot through my skull.

“You are a disgrace, Misha. She ran.”

“She rebelled,” I snapped. “But I know where she is.”

“I don’t care if she’s buried under Bogotá. You married her. Her father made a deal. She belongs to the Bratva now.”

My fingers curled around the phone.

“Lose her,” he said, “and you lose the Irkustk port. The Chita arms route. The five bratva families will turn. You will be nothing but a glorified dog with no leash.”

“I didn’t set her free.”

“Then prove it.”

The line went dead.

I stood in the dark. Silent. Burning.

Then I picked up the phone. Called a name I hadn’t spoken in years. A man who worked in shadows. Who’d buried problems for me before I learned how to clean the blood myself. Requested the men I swore I’d never use again.

Not for her. For me. That’s what I told myself.

But in the shadows, under all the ice, I already knew the truth. She’s not free. Not yet. And if I have to burn Colombia to the ground, I’ll remind her...

Luna Rojas doesn’t run from Misha Petrov.

She returns.

On her knees.

Twenty hours later, my jet touched down beneath Colombia’s cloud-heavy skies. Rain threatened but never fell.

The air smelled like old blood and burning sage.

Nikolai waited at the landing strip, already soaked with Colombian humidity. He’d come ahead to ensure our reach extended where it needed to.

“They’re burying the boy. Yuri. Today. You want to wait?”

“No.”

His mouth tightened. “We’ve locked down the cemetery perimeter. We’ve got five hundred. Silent but ready.”

“Good.”

He stared at me, something unreadable in his eyes. “You going in loud or quiet?”

I didn’t answer. Because I was already walking in rage.