Chapter 161
Blake
"The fuck I won't," I snarled. "That bastard took our mate—"
"Which is exactly why you need him alive long enough to talk," Dmitri interrupted. "Because he knows things. About Court, about other members, about operations that make his Alaska network look small-time. And most importantly..." His pale eyes locked onto mine. "He knows what happened to the real Scarlett Reeves's body, and who's been wearing her identity for past ten years."
The fake Scarlett, Cole breathed. If we can get that information—
Then we can track her down and find out what she knows about Kara's parents, I finished grimly. "Fine. We keep him alive long enough to squeeze information out of him. But after that, he's mine."
"Fair enough," Dmitri agreed. He handed me a heavy bag filled with supplies, then pulled out one more item—a small silver knife with Court symbols etched into the blade. "This is blood knife. Used in Court rituals, consecrated by moon magic. If you cut Konstantin with this, he cannot lie. Blood magic compels truth from anyone marked by blade."
I took the knife carefully, feeling the weight of it, the strange tingle of magic. "Why are you giving me this? Seems like something Court would kill you for losing."
"Court already wants me dead," Dmitri said with a bitter smile. "Helping you is just one more crime on very long list. Besides..." His expression softened. "Kara is my granddaughter. Only family I have left. If giving you every weapon in my arsenal helps bring her home safe, then Court can add it to my charges when they finally catch up with me."
Through the link, I felt Asher's surprise, Cole's surge of gratitude. This old wolf was risking everything—what little he had left—to help us save a granddaughter he'd never met.
"Thank you," I said roughly, and meant it. "When this is over, when Kara's safe, you'll get that meeting. I'll make sure of it."
"If I'm still alive," Dmitri said with dark humor. "Now go. Clock is ticking, and your mate needs you to be smart, not just strong."
I turned toward the door, the bag of supplies heavy in my hand, my mind already racing through tactics and strategies. Through the link, I could feel Asher coordinating with Marcus, Cole pulling up building schematics, both of them preparing for the assault with cold efficiency.
We're coming, baby, I thought, throwing the words down the mate bond even though I knew the suppression collar would probably block them. Hold on just a little longer. We're coming to bring you home.
And if anyone—Konstantin, his people, the fake Scarlett, anyone at all—had hurt her, had touched her, had made her feel even a fraction of the fear I could sense ghost-like through our dampened bond...
Well. Dmitri had said not to kill Konstantin immediately.
He hadn't said anything about making the bastard's death slow.
Kara
The cold bit through the thin white dress, but I barely noticed. My mind was too busy trying to piece together where the hell I was and how I'd gotten here.
The suppression collar pressed against my throat—a constant, suffocating reminder that I was cut off from everything. From Asher. From Blake. From Cole. From my wolf. From any hope of—
Click. Click. Click.
The door locks disengaged, and I forced my spine straight. Whatever was coming, I'd face it head-on.
But it wasn't Viktor's brutal efficiency that greeted me. It was Alexei, all twitchy nerves and darting eyes.
"Don't rush the door," he whispered in Russian, glancing over his shoulder. "I don't have much time."
I stayed frozen, calculating. Was this another test? Another layer of psychological torture?
He pulled out a paper plate with two slices of cold pizza and tossed it onto the bed. The smell of congealed cheese made my empty stomach clench despite myself.
"Eat fast," he muttered. "Viktor checks cameras in five minutes."
I stared at the food, then at him. My throat was sandpaper-raw from earlier screaming. "Water. Please."
Conflict warred across his gaunt face. Then he produced five small paper cups, hands shaking as he set them near my feet.
"This is all I can do."
I grabbed the first cup and drained it in desperate gulps. When I looked up, Alexei was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Guilt? Fear? Both?
"You could help me escape," I said quietly, switching to English. My Russian was functional but limited. "My pack—Silver Frost—they'd protect you. They'd—"
"You don't understand what you're asking." His accent thickened with stress. "Boss doesn't forgive. Boss doesn't forget."
"Then help me contact them. Just one message. They're looking for me, they won't stop until—"
"They won't find you." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "This place doesn't exist on any map. Boss made sure."
Ice flooded my veins, but I pushed forward anyway. "Who is Boss? Konstantin?"
Surprise flickered in his eyes—I'd caught him off guard. "Konstantin has many people. Viktor is one. I am another. But Boss..." He shook his head. "Boss is different. Boss gives Viktor his orders."
My mind raced. Viktor answered to someone higher up the chain. "Is Boss here? In Alaska?"
"Boss is everywhere and nowhere. Boss is just voice on phone. Orders come, we follow, or we die."
"How?" I leaned forward, ignoring how the collar dug into my windpipe. "How does Boss kill people who don't follow orders?"
His face went white. "You ask too many questions."
"I'm already dead if I don't understand what I'm dealing with." I held his gaze. "You brought me food. You brought me water. Some part of you doesn't want me to suffer. So tell me—how does Boss operate?"
The silence stretched so long I thought he'd bolt. But then he spoke, voice hollow with remembered terror.
"Last month, one of Viktor's men questioned an order. Thought he could negotiate better terms." Alexei's hands clenched into fists. "Boss called him directly. Said, 'Your time is up. Your contract is terminated.' Ten seconds later—sniper bullet through his head. We never saw the shooter."
My blood turned to ice. "But Boss still needs people to give orders to—"
"Boss needs loyal people." His eyes met mine, genuine terror flooding them. "Viktor is family to Boss. Cousin, maybe uncle—I don't know exactly. But Boss trusts Viktor to handle 'sensitive projects.'" His gaze flicked over me. "Like you."
Family. The word sent my thoughts spiraling. Viktor was related to Boss. Which meant whoever orchestrated this had resources, connections, reach beyond anything I'd imagined.
"Is Boss male or female?"
Alexei's expression shuttered. "Boss is Boss. That's all you need to know."
"But you must have—"
"I said that's all." He grabbed the empty cups, shoving them into his pockets. "I shouldn't have come. Forget this conversation."
"Wait—"
"Boss told Viktor to take good care of you." He paused at the door without turning. "Told him, 'Make sure the Luna stays healthy. She's valuable.' So you'll live." He looked back, and the pity in his gaze made my stomach turn. "But if you keep asking questions, make trouble... maybe you'll wish you hadn't."
The door slammed. Locks engaged.
I sat in renewed silence, pizza forgotten. Boss was the real power. Boss had professional snipers. Boss was related to Viktor. Boss knew I was a Luna—knew my value.
And Boss had specifically ordered them to keep me healthy.
My hand drifted to my still-flat stomach. If I was pregnant, if Boss knew or suspected I was carrying Sterling heirs, I wasn't just a hostage. I was a genetic goldmine. A way to control three Alphas for years.
I forced myself to eat one slice, choking down the rubbery cheese. I needed calories. Needed strength. If I was going to survive—if I was going to protect the life that might be growing inside me—I had to stay sharp.
Exhaustion dragged me under eventually. I curled onto the filthy mattress and let unconsciousness claim me.