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This woman’s insane. “You want me to kidnap a Bratva kingpin?”

“Kidnap or invite, your choice,” she spits. “But if you want little Bianca back in one piece, you’ll bring Drazen, alive, to the West Side development building. Penthouse floor. Tonight.”

My teeth grind. “If you’ve touched a fucking hair on⁠—”

“Come alone, Kratos. Just you and Drazen.”

The line goes dead.

They say fortune favors the brave. Bullshit. What fortune truly favors is a man with nothing to lose, and the woman he loves being held in danger of her life.

Breaking into Drazen’s building would be suicide. The doorman and concierge are both his men. More of his soldiers patrol every floor beneath his penthouse. And there’s no way in hell I’m scaling all the way up to break in through a window Mission Impossible style.

There is, however, a helipad on the roof. And while trying to land your own chopper on it should also be suicide, given that he has yet more men patrolling the roof, that ends up being how I get in.

Thanks to Taylor.

I can’t tell Ares what I’m doing. He’ll either try to stop me or insist on getting involved, and I won’t have any of my brothers getting hurt. But I can confide in my attorney and tell her that I’m in need of a Crown and Black helicopter.

Granted, she thinks she’s helping me get a meeting with Drazen, not kidnap him. But Taylor comes through like a champ. She even has the pilot radio ahead to building security that one of their tenants is a client and has a “legal emergency” that needs dealing with.

Drazen’s three guys on the roof never even know they’ve been played until they’re already out cold and tied up in a corner.

The rest is easy.

Ish.

Down the maintenance staircase to the penthouse level. Take out two more guys in the hallway. Use one of their keycards to get inside Drazen’s place.

Then wake the boogeyman himself up with a gun to his forehead.

“You should think very carefully about your next choices right now, Kratos,” he growls quietly, his eyes on mine in the dimness of his bedroom. “Very⁠—”

“You’ve been playing games with me and my family,” I hiss.

“Kratos—”

“And even though I hate being a pawn,” I growl, “that’s not why I’m here right now.” I lean closer. “I’m here because your fucking games have gotten my fucking wife kidnapped by Chernoff.”

He doesn’t blink.

“So, here’s the deal,” I spit. “You’re going to fix this. Because you’re the one who kicked the hornets nest. You’re the one who poured gasoline on this fire.”

I smile murder at Drazen.

“You’re going to help me get her back.”

Slowly, his mouth curls into a dark grin as he nods. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

30

BIANCA

“You know, if dance doesn’t pan out, you’d make a great actor.”

Rage, pain, and heartache sizzle like acid in me as I glare pure hate at the woman smirking down at me.

“Be mad if you want,” Amaya shrugs. “It was meant as a compliment.”

Fuck you,” I spit in reply.

She rolls her eyes. “Right back at ya, trust me. Seriously, you did well, Bianca.” Her lips curl poisonously. “And look on the bright side: you saved his life.”

My eyes close, as if to stop the pain from exploding though me.

It’s the only reason I did what I did: to save him. To stop this psycho bitch from having him killed.

When the knock came at the front door yesterday, I jumped up from the couch and ran to open it, assuming it was Kratos home early.

But instead of the man I love, I found myself face to face with Amaya, leveling a gun at my head, five men in full tactical gear with rifles standing behind her on the stoop.

Their brutal demands hit me so fast it sucked the very air from my lungs: pack a bag. Wait for Kratos to come home. Tell him it was over between us. I had ten minutes to convince him we were through and to walk out the front door alone, or Amaya’s men, who’d be waiting by the windows with guns aimed, would kill Kratos on the spot.

I watched helplessly as she placed a hidden mic and camera in the living room. She explained with an acid smile that if I let on what was happening in any way, or tried to warn him or signal to him that he was in danger, they’d kill him right in front of me.

So I did the only thing I could think of that I knew would stop him from following me, as much as it broke my heart.

Are sens

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