Page 122 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

"Cut it."

"It'll make noise."

"Wait until I'm inside, then cut."

Feodor looked at me through the open window. "You're really doing what they said? Going in alone?"

"On the surface."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"I don't pay you to feel better."

"You don't pay me enough to stay polite while you go to die."

I looked at him.

Feodor's face stayed calm. If he'd said that, it meant everything controllable had already been handled.

Tonight, the part that couldn't be controlled had been me.

"The old warehouse has an underground drainage run," I said. "Entrance is at the southeast corner. Put two guys in there. Park them under the main floor."

Feodor marked it fast. "You still remember the layout from that long ago?"

"Give me fifteen minutes," I said. "The second she's out of a gun's line, you hit."

"And if it isn't solved in fifteen?"

"Then you rush it."

Feodor pressed his headset, barked the last orders.

I killed my comms and left the earpiece in the van.

Matteo wouldn't believe I'd really shown up alone, but he'd absolutely believe I wouldn't let my people shoot first.

He'd grabbed the one weakness I'd never wanted to admit I had.

I walked to the warehouse by myself.

The iron door at the main entrance stood open. Two men took my gun, then swept my coat and pant legs with a detector.

I went in.

A hanging work light turned the center of the warehouse into a dead-white stage.

The first thing I saw was Elena.

She'd still been tied to the chair. The tape over her mouth was gone, but there was fresh blood around her wrists. The swelling on her cheek was worse than in the photo. The cut on her lip had crusted dark.

No heavy bleeding. Once I confirmed that, I could breathe again.

She saw me. Her hazel eyes went wide.

Then she shook her head.

Once.