Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

T he city's neon glow fades behind me as I slip deeper into the shadows of a forgotten alleyway. My heart races, not from fear but from the exhilaration of momentary freedom. Hawk's security detail, while necessary, has become suffocating. This clandestine excursion to purchase a personal item feels like stealing air after being underwater for too long.

I pull my hood lower, relishing the anonymity it provides. The cool night air caresses my face, carrying with it the scents of the city – a heady mixture of car exhaust, street food, and rain-slicked pavement. For a moment, I'm just another face in the crowd, invisible and unremarkable.

But invisibility is an illusion, and one I've clearly overestimated.

The first prickle of unease crawls up my spine as I round a corner into a narrower street. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a primal warning system alerting me to unseen eyes. I quicken my pace, the soft tap of my footsteps echoing off brick walls. Behind me, other footfalls join the rhythm – too steady, too purposeful to be casual passers-by.

I risk a glance over my shoulder. Shadows detach themselves from doorways, solidifying into hulking figures that match my stride. My pulse quickens, adrenaline flooding my system. I've walked into a trap, and the jaws are about to snap shut.

Ahead, the alley narrows further. Two more men materialize, blocking my path. Their broad shoulders and hard eyes leave no doubt – these are Viktor Kazanov's men. The tattoos peeking out from beneath their collars confirm it.

I don't hesitate. Survival instinct takes over, my body moving before my mind can fully process the danger. I pivot, driving my knee up into the closest thug's groin. As he doubles over, I use his momentum to propel myself forward, aiming for the gap between him and his companion.

But they're prepared for resistance. Hands grab at my clothing, meaty fingers digging into my arms. I twist, breaking one hold only to find myself ensnared by another. My martial arts training kicks in, muscle memory taking over as I deliver precise strikes to vulnerable points – throats, solar plexuses, insteps.

For a moment, I gain the upper hand. Bodies crumple around me, groans of pain filling the air. But there are too many of them, the confined space working against me. A blunt object – a pipe, perhaps – connects with the back of my head. Pain explodes across my skull, my vision blurring at the edges.

I stagger, fighting to maintain consciousness. Rough hands seize me, forcing my arms behind my back. The plastic bite of zip ties cuts into my wrists.

"You're coming with us," a gravelly voice growls in my ear.

I struggle, but the world is spinning, darkness encroaching on my vision. The last thing I register is the acrid smell of van upholstery before oblivion claims me.

Consciousness returns slowly, dragging me back to a reality I'd rather avoid. The first thing I notice is the cold – a bone-deep chill that seeps through my clothes. Then comes the discomfort – arms pulled tightly behind me, ankles secured to the legs of what feels like a metal chair. My head throbs, a dull ache pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

I force my eyes open, blinking against the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. As my vision clears, the details of my prison come into focus. An abandoned warehouse, vast and decrepit. Rusted metal beams stretch overhead, disappearing into shadows. Broken windows let in slivers of moonlight, creating eerie patterns on the concrete floor. The air is thick with the scent of mildew and stagnant water.

Immediately, my mind kicks into overdrive, assessing the situation with cold precision. I catalog potential weapons, escape routes, structural weaknesses. The chair I'm bound to – old, but sturdy. The zip ties – tight, but not unbreakable. A discarded nail glints on the floor, just within reach if I can maneuver carefully.

Footsteps echo in the cavernous space, growing louder. I school my features into a mask of indifference, determined not to show weakness. A figure emerges from the gloom, and my stomach clenches with a mixture of anger and disgust.

Regina. My second cousin, my lifelong rival, and now, apparently, my captor.

She circles me like a shark scenting blood, a smug smile playing on her perfectly painted lips. "Comfortable?" she asks, her voice dripping with false concern.

I meet her gaze steadily, injecting as much derision into my tone as possible. "Is this your way of hosting a family reunion? I must say, your event planning skills leave something to be desired."

Regina's laugh is cold, devoid of any real mirth. "Always so witty. I see Hawk's taste hasn't improved much."

At the mention of Hawk's name, I feel a flicker of possessiveness, quickly suppressed. I won't give her the satisfaction of seeing any reaction. Instead, I arch an eyebrow, my voice laced with contempt. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Regina. Is kidnapping your new hobby? It seems a bit... pedestrian for someone of your supposed stature."

Her eyes flash with irritation, a crack in her polished veneer. "You think you're clever, but you're in over your head. You have no idea what forces you're dealing with."

I almost laugh at the cliché. "Oh please, spare me the melodrama. Viktor may be a thug, but he's hardly the mastermind you're making him out to be."

Regina's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. I've struck a nerve.

Yeah, I know. Viktor's not the mastermind Regina thinks he is. But finding the one backing him has taken me years and I'm closer than ever.

She leans in closer, her breath hot against my ear. "Did Hawk ever tell you about our history?"

I roll my eyes, not bothering to hide my disdain. "Your delusions are showing, Regina. What's next? Are you going to tell me that you and Hawk had some torrid love affair? Please. I know him far better than you ever did or will."

"We were close once," Regina continues, her voice silky smooth but with an undercurrent of desperation. "Very close. You were just a convenient distraction."

The lie is so transparent it's almost insulting. I know Hawk and the depth of his disdain for Regina. A part of me wants to lash out, to defend what Hawk and I have. But I push that impulse down. Emotional detachment is key here.

I smirk, allowing a hint of pity to color my tone. "If that's true, why are you so threatened by me? Face it, Regina. Hawk never wanted you. Not when we were younger, and certainly not now. You're just a sad, desperate woman clinging to a fantasy."

Regina's facade crumbles, rage contorting her features. "You little bitch," she snarls, her hand raises and she slaps me across the face. "I'm not threatened by a pathetic little girl playing at being a woman."

I laugh, the sound cold and mocking. "Really? Then why go to all this trouble? Face it, Regina. You're terrified that I've succeeded where you've always failed. Hawk sees me as an equal, a partner. You? You're not even a blip on his radar."

Regina's composure shatters. She grabs my hair, yanking my head back painfully. "You think you're so special? You have no idea what's coming. Viktor has plans that will destroy everything you and Hawk have built. And when it's all over, I'll be there to pick up the pieces."

I meet her gaze unflinchingly, a predatory smile curving my lips. "Thank you for confirming my suspicions, Regina. You always were too easy to manipulate."

Confusion flickers across her face, quickly replaced by horror as she realizes her mistake. She's revealed far more than she intended.

"You won't be so smug once Viktor arrives," she hisses, trying to regain control of the situation. "He has plans for you that will make you wish you'd never crossed us."

I lean forward as much as my restraints allow, my voice low and dangerous. "Bring it on. Viktor's just another obstacle to be overcome. And whoever's backing him? They've made a fatal error in underestimating me. I've been working for years to uncover the truth, and you've just handed me another piece of the puzzle."

Regina's eyes widen, fear replacing anger. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

I press my advantage. "Run along now, Regina. Go report to your master like a good dog."

Regina backs away, her composure in tatters. "We'll see," she manages to spit out before turning and fleeing from the room.

As her footsteps fade, I immediately begin working the zip tie against the nail I spotted earlier. The abrasive surface starts to fray the plastic, but progress is agonizingly slow. I grit my teeth, focusing on the task at hand rather than the implications of what I've learned.

Time becomes fluid, measured only by the steady drip of water from a leaking pipe and the rasp of plastic against metal. My mind races, piecing together the fragments of information I've gathered over the years. Viktor is just the tip of the iceberg. There's a larger conspiracy at play, one that threatens Hawk and I won't allow that. Nobody hurts my man.

The distant rumble of an engine shatters the silence. Voices echo through the warehouse – Viktor's men are drawing closer. My heart rate spikes, fingers working furiously at the restraints.

Just as panic threatens to overtake me, I feel the zip tie give way. A surge of triumph courses through me as I free my hands, quickly working to release my ankles. I may be outnumbered and unarmed, but I'm far from helpless. I take a few steps and start to feel optimistic until a group of men walk in and surround me. Fuck!