Mikhail

22

Mikhail Mogilevich

"He's lost his mind," Ivan muttered as we left the short briefing, "why go to all that trouble and not even kill the girl?"

"He's planning something worse."

I refreshed my messages and cursed down at Natalia's name. She had read only the first of my messages, and decided for a reason or another to ignore it. By doing so she missed the rest of my orders to leave the nightclub I knew she was spending tonight at.

"Where are we going?" he questioned, trailing behind me as my feet carried me toward the front of the estate.

Without so much as thinking twice about it, I knew there wasn't a chance of her escaping Julio without our help.

I was going against our law, that much was true, but had faced far dire consequences with recent disregards of my father's orders. At least that's what I now told myself.

We had received notice of Julio's men preparing to raid Wellesley's establishment just before it had happened. The information had come from our spies, not Julio himself, which further proved the growing distrust and weakening of our relations.

By the end of the meeting we were informed of three casualties and their target having been acquired, all within a matter of minutes.

"Have Leo and Alexei follow us," I informed him shortly, fishing for the keys of my car, "Wellesley's too diplomatic to get her out of this."

"No," his footsteps halted in defiance.

I spun around, daring him to speak against this, both knowing there was no time to waste in any situation driven by Julio's erratic behaviour.

"She's not one of ours," he argued, standing his ground, "if Julio doesn't kill us, Wellesley will."

"Not if we have her," I insisted firmly, "it's Wellesley and us against Julio. The rest we figure out later."

Instead of being the rational thirty-year-old with a plan that I was trained to be, I was going in blindly, more out of my comfort zone than I wished to ever find myself.

The constant fighting and competing between my family and Wellesley's had lasted for decades. The world wasn't big enough for the both of us, but neither had been able to eliminate the other, as much as we had tried.

It wasn't an ideal situation for me to even consider saving one of Wellesley's, but it could easily be concealed as an attempt on Julio's life. Ivan knew me better than that, and despised the idea along with my every logical part of me.

"You're not thinking clearly," he muttered with distaste, but gave in. I agreed.

--

CW: descriptions of violence (not a lot but still graphic) and Natalia's drugged, loss of bodily autonomy.

Natalia Wellesley

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I then tried to move, but was unable to.

I felt the ties pinning me to the uncomfortable wooden chair and the heavy hood over my head, but couldn't so much as clench a muscle. I could hear a heavy door open and creak shut, before distant mutters passed between two men.

The voices neared and, with my heart racing as panic settled, I stared at the darkness I was enveloped in.

"Is she awake?" The voices neared, carried across whatever room I was in with firm footsteps.

Was I awake?

My body definitely wasn't, and my mind felt hazy and slow. I blinked a few times, realising then that I had been strongly drugged.