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Yuri turns back slowly, giving me the exact same look he’s given me a handful of other times over the years when he thought I was about to make a mistake I couldn’t be talked out of. “That’s not the smart play, and you know it. You lead this organization. If something happens to you in there, everything we’ve built falls apart along with it.”

“If I send someone else in and it goes wrong, I live with that for the rest of my life, and I still don’t have her back.” I hold his gaze, unmoving, refusing to give an inch on this point. “This isn’t a decision I’m making lightly, Yuri. I’ve thought through every argument you’re about to make, and none of them change the answer.”

“You could get yourself killed tonight. You could get her killed too if you’re not thinking clearly because it’s personal instead of tactical.”

“It’s exactly because it’s personal that I need to be the one who goes in. Anyone else on point is going to hesitate at the wrong moment, second-guess a call because they’re worried about protecting me instead of finishing the job.” My voice doesn’t rise, doesn’t need to, every word deliberate. “I won’t hesitate. Not for her. That’s the only advantage I need, and it’s not one I’m willing to hand off to anyone else tonight.”

Yuri holds my gaze a long moment, weighing the argument against everything his training tells him about the risk, and finally exhales, some of the fight going out of his posture entirely. “Then I’m right beside you the entire way in, no arguments about that part.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

By six that evening, I’ve got twelve men assembled in the garage, weapons checked, vehicles loaded, the whole operation compressed down to a level of readiness I haven’t needed to call on in years.

I walk the line of them slowly, meeting every set of eyes before I start talking, making sure each man understands exactly what tonight requires of him.

“There’s a woman in that building who means more to me than anything else I’ve built in this life.” I keep my voice level, carrying just far enough to reach every man without needing to raise it. “She’s pregnant. She’s already survived one round of questioning from these people and given them nothing. Tonight, we go get her back, and nothing about how we do it leaves room for hesitation.”

I let that settle over the room for a moment before continuing, watching it land on each face in turn, twelve men who’ve all signed on for exactly this kind of night without ever quite knowing when it would arrive.

I walk through the layout Yuri’s contact provided, entry points marked, guard rotations timed down to the minute, contingencies built in for every way this could go wrong that I can think to plan around.

I assign positions, confirm radio checks, run the timeline twice to make sure every man in that garage understands exactly where he needs to be and when.

“If anyone freezes in there, people die. Maybe her. Maybe one of you standing next to me right now.” I let that land before continuing. “I need absolute certainty from every one of you that you can execute your part without flinching. If that’s not you, tell me now, and I’ll find someone else. There’s no shame in knowing your limits. There’s only shame in discovering them mid-operation when it costs someone their life.”

I scan the row of faces once more, giving every man a real chance to step back if he needs to. Nobody moves. I didn’t expect anyone to, not from this group, men I’ve handpicked and trusted through worse nights than this one is likely to become, but I needed to give the option regardless.

Nobody steps back. Every man in that garage holds my gaze and nods, the same grim readiness I feel settling into my own chest reflected back at me from twelve different directions. I’ve worked with most of these men for years, trained some of them myself, and not one of them looks away from what I’m asking of them tonight.

Yuri checks his weapon one final time beside me, the familiar routine settling something steady in both of us before whatever comes next. “Two days of searching now. Feels strange it comes down to tonight.”

“It always comes down to one night eventually.” I check my own weapon, the motion automatic after years of repetition. “Better it’s tonight than another day lost waiting for a cleaner opportunity that might never come.”

He nods once, understanding exactly what I mean without needing any further explanation from me, the same shorthand years of working together have built between us. Neither of us says anything else for a moment, both running through our own private checklist before it’s time to move.

The garage door opens, engines starting in sequence around me, and I climb into the lead vehicle with Yuri beside me, twelve men falling into formation behind us in the vehicles that follow. Whatever’s waiting inside that warehouse, I intend to walk through every obstacle standing between it and getting her out alive. The city passes in a blur of streetlights through the window, familiar roads that feel unfamiliar tonight, everything sharpened down to a single destination.

I don’t look back as we pull out onto the road together.

There’s nothing behind me worth looking back for tonight. Everything that matters is ahead of us now, somewhere inside a building I intend to tear apart if that’s what it takes to bring her home. I think of her voice on the terrace, her hand pressed against her stomach in the garden, the specific way she laughed at something small just days ago, and I let every one of those images settle into the same place I’ve always kept the things worth fighting for.

Tonight, I intend to bring all of it back home with me safely.

36

HARPER

A full day passes with nobody coming back to question me at all, just a rotation of guards bringing water and glancing in through the door often enough to confirm I haven’t gone anywhere.

The concrete room stays the same temperature no matter the hour, cold enough that I’ve stopped noticing it as anything other than background discomfort by now, a constant I’ve learned to simply tune out.

They’ve stopped being careful with me. I notice it in small ways: the door left unlatched for a beat too long after a guard checks on me, someone’s radio left on the table just outside my reach during a shift change, conversations happening in the hallway like I’m not close enough to hear fragments of them through the door.

Whatever fear or caution existed the first day has settled into routine, the same way any job eventually does for the people doing it.

A pregnant woman tied to a chair doesn’t read as a threat to men used to handling actual threats, men who deal in guns and territory disputes rather than someone like me. I understand why. I also understand that their certainty about that is the only real advantage I have left in this room.

The guard who comes in that evening is younger than the others, careless in a way that tells me he hasn’t been doing this long enough to have learned better habits yet.