Page 78 of Lord of the Underworld

With a sick kind of certainty, I answer. "Turgenev." My throat's dry.

"My Vor- she's- your wife's been taken." Lavr's speech is mushy, like he's gargling blood.

"Tell me."

Stepan spins to look at me, eyes wide. He understands my tone.

"Northeast corner of Red Square-" he coughs wetly, then continues, "the Black Kynigós sent three children running in front of us. When we stopped, they stepped in. I think they killed everyone but me." There's an urgent voice speaking in the background, something about blood loss and the doctor. "They took Mrs. Turgeneva's friend Anka Volkova as well. We managed to kill three of them. The hunters just left them there."

Another voice cuts in over his. "Sir, we must take him to the hospital, he has an abdominal stab wound -"

"Go," I cut them off. "Let him keep his phone."

I don't remember getting into the car, but Stepan looks at me. "Red Square to start?"

"Yes," I manage. Every cell inside me is frozen. I didn't protect my Oksana well enough. But I will still save her.

Red Square's Christmas lights are overshadowed by the flashing red and blue lights of police cars and emergency vehicles surrounding the bodies of my men. I've already sent in our guards to question the bystanders and one of our Brigadiers is handling the police.

Staring down at the three unfamiliar corpses, I kick one over onto his back. There's a squawk of indignation from the emergency worker hovering by, though she backs off immediately. The Black Kynigós brand is on his chest, over his heart.

My phone lights up with a message from Valery, a police contact.

Valery: We isolated the attack footage from a traffic camera.

Stepan and I watch the footage of the hunters close in on Oksana and her security. As three children ran in front of her group, halting them, twenty-five men materialized from every direction, closing in at exactly the same moment. It was perfectly choreographed. A knife in the kidney, a bullet from a gun with a silencer. Twelve different ways with the same result, my Oksana was taken.

"Father called," Stepan says. "They’re on the way."

"They will not be able to help here," I say, digging into the corpse's coat pockets. When I pull out his phone, I can see it's already wiped. There has to be something here, a card, a keychain, any clue to where they took my wife.

Stepan nudges me, my phone's ringing. It's a blocked number. A sense of resignation flows over me.

"Turgenev." I rasp.

"Hello, Mr. Turgenev." The voice is cheerful. A little solicitous. Unmistakably Greek. "We have your wife."

"I know."

The man pauses, when he talks again his good humor is gone. His voice is crisp, matter of fact. "The parties who hired us had a great many plans for her. But we've convinced them of a second option." He's waiting for me to say something. He is wasting his time.

"Taking the Angel of Death," he says mockingly, "the Bratva world's most feared assassin. Now, that's a coup. A mark of distinction. Don't you think?"

The flashing lights blur and the only thing left is the sound of his voice, my sole connection to Oksana.

"Punishing a woman, while satisfying, can't possibly carry as much honor," he continues, a dark satisfaction creeping into his voice.

Stepan grits his teeth, trying to hear the conversation. He mutters, "No fucking honor, you cocksuckers!" under his breath.

"An exchange," I say. A notification pops up, a pin dropped on my maps app.

"I suspect you're quite close," the man says. "You have fifteen minutes to get here. Let's respect each other enough to be clear that we will know if you've brought anyone with you. If you do, I will slice your wife to ribbons in front of you."

"My brother comes with me to take her home." My voice is flat, robotic. I welcome it. Because my mind is blindingly clear, and the soul-deep terror for my wife's safety turns into certainty. "Fifteen minutes."

"Make it twelve." He hangs up on me.

"You can't trust his word," Stepan says urgently. "We have so many reinforcements, brother. Giving yourself up to them? It's insane!"