Page 75 of The Mafia's Septuplets
How much does he know about our private lives and vulnerabilities?
“What do you want?” I growl.
“I want you to come collect what belongs to you.” His tone shifts to something approaching command. “Come alone, or the next call you receive will be very different.”
“Where?”
“I’ll text you coordinates. You have two hours, or I start sending pieces of your family back to you.” The line goes dead, but not before I hear something that stops my heart. It’s Willa’s voice, distant but unmistakable, crying out my name with desperate fear. The sound strikes me hard, transforming rage into something beyond rational thought.
My phone immediately buzzes with coordinates to a location that matches the northwest direction Anton reported. As expected, it’s in a rural area, isolated, and perfect for the confrontation Mikhail has been engineering since he arrived in my territory.
Timur inputs the coordinates on his own device and studies it with tactical assessment. “It’s a building, probably fortified to a compound by now, forty minutes from here. Satellite imagery shows multiple buildings, defensive positions, and a single access road.”
“How long to get our people in position?”
“Ninety minutes for full deployment. Sixty if we move fast and light.” He types on his tablet, coordinating multiple teams simultaneously. “He’s expecting exactly this response.”
The psychological warfare Mikhail is conducting suggests he knows exactly how to exploit my protective instincts while putting Willa in maximum danger. He wants me angry, desperate, and making emotional decisions instead of tactical ones.
“He’s not getting what he wants.” I shoulder my rifle and check my sidearms. “We go in heavy and smart, and we end this permanently.”
“The trailing SUV team just made contact.” Timur’s phone buzzes with incoming intel. “They’ve maintained visual on the compound. They’ve confirmed location and count at least fifteen hostiles on exterior patrol.”
I grimace, wishing we had more immediately available men. “Weapons?”
“Military grade. Automatic rifles, tactical gear, and coordinated positions.” He shows me real-time surveillance photos. “These are pros, not foot soldiers.”
The images confirm my worst fears about Mikhail’s preparation and resources. This isn’t just revenge.
My secure phone rings again with the same unknown number. This time, I answer with steel in my voice. “Balakin.”
“Having second thoughts?” Mikhail’s tone carries smug satisfaction.
“Just admiring your preparation. Fifteen men with military weapons are maintaining defensive positions.” I let him know his advantage isn’t as secret as he thinks. “Impressive for someone who’s about to die.”
“Confidence suits you, but circumstances have changed.” His voice hardens with years of accumulated hatred. “Your woman is more spirited than expected. She seems to think you’ll negotiate for her release.”
“Put her on the phone.”
“Briefly. Any attempt to communicate tactical information results in immediate consequences.” I can’t tell if he’s warning me or her about that.
Static crackles before Willa’s voice comes through, strained but defiant. “Iskander, don’t come alone. This is a trap.”
“I’m coming for you.” My voice carries promise and threat in equal measure. “Stay strong.”
“I love you.” Her words make my knees weak. “I love you, and I’m sorry about this morning.”
The line goes dead before I can respond, leaving me with the sound of her voice echoing in my mind. She’s apologizing for our fight while being held hostage by enemies who want to use her death to destroy me. The guilt of our unresolved argument cuts deeply, reminding me how many things I need to say to her once she’s safe.
“What did this morning’s fight involve?” Timur’s question carries tactical curiosity rather than personal interest.
“She wanted me to prioritize our relationship over business obligations. I chose a phone call over her ultrasound appointment.” The admission emerges with bitter irony. “She was asking for partnership, and I was planning to kidnap her instead.”
His expression shifts to something approaching understanding. “Plan L would have destroyed everything between you, but it would have kept her safe.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s a moot point. Now I get the chance to prove I can choose her over everything else that seems important.” I’ll have to confess my plan to trick her, unable to live with it on my conscience, especially since I left that voicemail earlier, but now isn’t the time to focus on potential fallout from that. I move toward the door, already mentally preparing for the assault ahead. “First, we kill everyone between me and the woman I love.”
“Rules of engagement?”