Under Control: Chapter 39

The house looks like any other. It’s a quiet Baltimore suburb in a town called Towson. Narrow roads, green grass and lots of trees, and the homes are spread out enough that the neighbors won’t be paying much attention. It’s the perfect spot to keep a kidnapped woman without drawing much attention. Hidden, secluded, but still close enough to the city that it’s accessible.

It’s also perfect for a rescue.

“Your team sweeps the bottom,” I tell Anton as he gets himself loaded and kitted up. We’re parked a quarter mile away in the pitch-black darkness beside a shallow forest. He yanks the strap of a bulletproof vest tight. “I’ll take the second floor.”

“What about the surrounding area?”

“Leave a small team to check it. Have them focus on the back. You saw the trees?”

“Fucking woods could be hiding anything.”

“We focus on the house.” I ram the slide of my sub-machine gun and check to make sure it’s loaded. “Nobody leaves here without Karine’s mother.”

When it comes, the moment of doubt is subtle. It’s not like Anton says something or overtly goes against my commands. He wouldn’t do that, not when there are other soldiers nearby, and not right before a dangerous operation.

But I know him, and I see it nonetheless.

“If there are problems—” he starts, but I hold up my hand for silence and gesture with my head for him to follow me. We walk away from the other men as they’re preparing, and although they’re giving us curious looks, they can fuck themselves.

I speak softly so nobody can overhear. “Tell me what you’re thinking and be fast. No bullshit.”

He nods once, face going hard. “This is a big risk for your mother-in-law. We have to worry about more lives than just hers.”

I expected that. I had hoped Anton trusted me enough to know that this wasn’t only about a personal vendetta, but sometimes a leader had to know when to speak his mind. I can run the Bratva with fear and violence sometimes, but other times I have to know when to explain myself.

“This isn’t just about Miriam,” I tell him and put a hand on his shoulder. “This is about proving that Arsen is actually turning against his father. If that happens, we have a way to end this war before it really kicks off. And that will save far more lives than we might lose tonight.”

He nods slowly and glances back over my shoulder toward the soldiers. “I’ll make sure they understand then.”

“If this is a trap, get everyone out. But if it’s not, we’re bringing Miriam back home. We owe her that much.”

“I’m with you.”

“I knew you were.” I squeeze his shoulder then push him back over to the men. “Go on, make sure they’re prepared.”

He walks off and does his thing with the men. Anton’s clever and very well-liked. The soldiers trust him because they see him as one of their own, while no matter how much I fight alongside them, how often I suffer, everything I’ve done for this Bratva, I’ll always be the former pakhan’s son.

Fifteen men break from the trees and head toward a simple two-story home with a little portico front porch and a wide-open lawn. More trees loom behind it, and there aren’t any lights on inside. That’s not surprising—it’s past two in the morning, and even the best guards would have trouble staying awake out here at this hour.

We split into teams of five. Anton goes around back with the outside team while I take the front. One of my young soldiers picks the lock, and once it thunks open, I take point and go in first. It’s not smart, but it shows them that I believe in this plan, and a little confidence can go a long way in a fight.

The foyer is empty. Nothing on the walls, no furniture. I pass another empty room on the left and go straight for the staircase, a nervous uncertainty wriggling through my guts. The men follow, going as quietly as they can. Floorboards creak under the weight of our gear.

I reach the top and the hall’s also empty. Straight ahead is a bathroom, pristine, like it’s never been used.

The bad feeling turns into a tidal wave as I step up and look into the first bedroom on the left.

Empty. Completely empty.

But ahead, at the end of the hall, one of the doors is closed. I move toward it, signing for the men at my back to stay ready. There’s another open doorway on the right, and I approach it with my gun raised and ready.

Inside is another bedroom, and this one has mattresses on the floor. Three of them with blankets and sheets and softly snoring bodies. A TV’s on in the corner showing a pop-up asking if they’re still watching. I nod for two of my men to go in as I take the closed door.

It’s the first room with real furniture. A dresser’s on my right and another door on my left leads into a small en-suite bathroom. This must be the master. I creep forward toward a hospital-style bed where a body’s lying under thin blankets. An IV looms beside the still form.

Gunshots crack out, shattering the stillness. There’s a brief scream, but it’s cut off by another shot.

The figure in the bed jolts awake.

They thrash slightly and throw the blankets aside, and Karine’s mother, Miriam, stares at me through the darkness. Her eyes are wide with fright, and they don’t relax when I step closer.

“We’re here to take you home,” I tell her.

She’s so fucking skinny. Half her face is covered in ugly red burns. There’s gauze around her arm and pasted to her torso where the doctors back home had to perform a skin graft. Her breathing comes fast, and I think she’s terrified of me, until she raises a hand.

“Valentin,” she says.

I spin around as a guard appears in the bathroom. He’s sleepy, only half-awake, and he draws his gun as I throw myself sideways.

Three shots snap through the room.

I hit the floor with a grunt. Red blooms on the guard’s chest and he tries to track me with his gun, but his arm doesn’t work anymore. Slowly, he sinks back down to the floor, and slumps sideways as blood pumps from the wound.

I stare at the corpse, then push myself to my knees.

No pain. No wounds.

A bullet hole is lodged in the wall only inches above Miriam’s head.

“Are you okay?” I ask her, going to her side.

“All things considered,” she says, smiling weakly. “You just killed my doctor though.”

“Don’t worry. We have a better one.” She’s connected to the bed with handcuffs, and I have my lock-picker take care of those. Once she’s free, she rubs her wrists but doesn’t try to get up. I doubt she could walk if she tried.

“All dead,” one of my soldiers reports as he enters the room. “Anton says it’s clear downstairs.”

“Get everything ready,” I tell him and kneel down at Miriam’s side. I take her hand and it’s so damn thin. She looks at me with a mixture of worry and fear, and I don’t blame her.

“I see your father every time I look at you,” she whispers in the night.

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I never told Karine. When did you find out?”

“Not too long ago.”

“How did she take it?”

“Better than I would’ve expected.”

“That’s good.” She sighs, leaning back against the pillows. “It was so hard on my husband. He held on to a lot of anger and hate over the years. I think he fantasized about killing you for what your father did to me, and it didn’t help that we ended up in your city.”

“I’m glad he didn’t try.”

“He was a big softie, but I’m glad he didn’t try too.” She peeks at me, and her face hardens. “You’re serious about my daughter, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And you really aren’t like your father?”

“I will die before I ever hurt Karine.” I mean it too. I’d rather cut off my own hand than ever lay a finger on her in a way she doesn’t like.

“I believe you.”

That’s enough for me. I touch her hand and she nods at me with a pained smile. I stand and walk away as my men take over, gently transitioning her into a wheelchair. I can tell she’s in a lot of pain, but she doesn’t make much noise as we carry her down the steps and push her out to the waiting cars.

A doctor’s in the back of the van. The same doctor as before.

“Quieter this time,” he mutters to me as we get Miriam loaded in the back.