𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐞 || A Mafia Love Story

xxxv

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Viktor sat in his study, his hands wrapped tightly around the phone, his knuckles white from the pressure. The room was dim, the curtains drawn to keep out the fading evening light, but the darkness did nothing to soothe the tension that coiled inside him like a spring wound far too tight. The air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke, but Viktor hardly noticed it—his mind was elsewhere. His cousins had returned to Russia days ago, yet it felt like a lifetime. Time had lost all meaning since Marlee had been taken. Every second that ticked by without a word from her felt like a knife slicing deeper into him. He had never felt so powerless.

The phone in his hand rang twice before Maxim picked up, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"Viktor," Maxim greeted, though his tone was far from welcoming. It held a strained mix of weariness and unease. "We're working on it. I've got men scanning through footage, contacting every source we've got on the ground. It's only a matter of—"

"Make it faster," Viktor growled, cutting him off. His voice was sharp enough to draw blood. There was no room for patience anymore; he had burned through that long ago. All that remained was this gnawing sense of dread, like a shadow that clung to him no matter how hard he tried to shake it. "Check every airstrip, dock, and train station—whether it's a major hub or a forgotten corner in the middle of nowhere. I don't care what it takes. Find her."

There was a beat of silence on the other end before Maxim exhaled heavily, tension radiating through the line. "Understood," Maxim said, his voice tight. "I'll have our people sweep everything. We'll pull on every thread until we get something."

Without another word, Viktor ended the call, the abrupt silence in the room making his pulse thunder in his ears. He tossed the phone onto the desk, his eyes focusing on the digital map glowing on his screen. He had been staring at it for hours—days, maybe—tracing routes across Europe and Russia, calculating every possible move the people who took Marlee could have made. He knew the most logical options, the likeliest escape routes, but none of it was enough. Somewhere out there, Marlee was waiting—cold, scared, and alone. He could feel her slipping away, and the thought of losing her twisted his gut with a violent ache.

A soft knock at the door barely registered, but Viktor didn't look up. It wasn't until Roman's familiar presence filled the room that Viktor glanced up from the map. Roman stood in the doorway, looking as haggard as Viktor felt. His younger brother's eyes held a mix of concern and fatigue, but underneath it all, there was determination—Roman had always been Viktor's rock when everything else threatened to collapse.

"Any leads?" Roman asked quietly, stepping inside and leaning against the doorframe. His arms crossed over his chest, but his gaze remained fixed on Viktor, waiting for any sign of hope.

Viktor shook his head, his hand dragging down his face in frustration. "Maxim's got our men combing through security footage. We'll find something soon... we have to."

Roman didn't respond immediately, but Viktor could feel his brother's silent support. It was a small comfort, but it kept him grounded when everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control.

Minutes turned into hours, but finally, Viktor's phone buzzed again. He snatched it up without hesitation. "Yes?" he barked into the receiver, his voice tense.

"We found something," Maxim's voice crackled through the line, this time with a sense of urgency that had been missing before. "One of our contacts managed to pull security footage from a private airstrip in Europe. A plane landed there early this morning, around the same time Marlee was taken. We cross-referenced the license plate on the vehicle that picked up the passengers with footage from another camera. The car is registered in Russia."