Page 177 of The Wrong Brother

Then I walk out into the cold night air to hunt down my runaway bride.

Chapter 3

Liev

The streets ofSavannahfeel hollow after midnight. The storefronts are dark and the sidewalks are slick with the kind of cold that creeps through wool and leather alike, but my men and I carve through the quiet. Tires hiss over damp pavement as the SUVs roll slowly at either end of the block, boxing the grid. We move on foot between them, checking alleys and service doors, testing handles, and scanning rooftops.

Every few minutes someone radios in a sighting: a shadow vaulting a fence, a busted lock, a man swearing in Spanish. Each report tightens the wire already strung through my chest.

We find the first body behind a closed café. It’s one of Hinto’s soldiers folded against the brick wall with his arm bent backward at a sick angle, gun missing. He’s conscious enough to groan when I crouch beside him, fear blooming in his eyes as he recognizes me. There’s no blood, just ruthless damage. He’ll recover, but he’ll need to find another career.

I catalogue this information away. Ryder isn’t someone who wounds with weapons, or fights to kill. It’s the first real thing I learned about her.

I stand without saying a word and keep moving, grim satisfaction cutting through the anger. She isn’t running blindly. She’s clearing her path.

Two blocks further, my people spread out, boots pounding the pavement. I feel less like a groom chasing a runaway bride and more like a hunter tracking something rare and dangerous through my territory. Every broken obstacle she leaves behind pulls me forward. No one has ever challenged me like this, and I intend to be the one who catches her.

A couple of thin snowflakes drift down from the sky, melting before they ever reach the pavement.

They remind me of ash.

“She cut through Reynolds Square,” Oleg, one of my most trusted Brigadiers, murmurs. “Fast. Took out another one of Hinto’s boys. Broke his wrist.”

A faint, humorless smile tugs at my mouth.

“Of course,” I murmur. Her father is messy, but she’s precise.

Later, I find another man groaning behind a dumpster a few streets away. The destruction isn’t panicked; it’s specific. Knees shattered. Fingers bent the wrong way. Weapons stripped and left scattered.

She’s hunting her way out, following some kind of logical path. Where is she going?

The phone in my pocket vibrates. I answer without breaking stride.

“You lose something?” Kazimir drawls.

There’s amusement in his voice, warm with that quiet cruelty we’ve teased each other with since we were kids. I can picture him leaning back in some leather chair, feet up, enjoying himself far too much. These days he smiles more than frowns, and I should hate him for it, but I don’t. He’s made my daughter happy.

Even if he did ignore me when I told him she was off limits.

“If you’re calling to laugh,” I say, “hang up.”

He chuckles anyway. “Losing your bride before the vows. Not a strong start, Pakhan.”

“I’m not amused.”

The humor fades from his tone. “Then listen. If Hinto wants more control up the coast, he’ll make sure his daughter obeys. One way or another. You know that.”

I do. That’s the part I hate. Something in my chest twists at the thought of her being forced into anything, even if I’m the one meant to benefit.

“I don’t like this plan,” I admit.

“No one ever likes necessary plans,” Kaz replies. “But you wanted Miami. This is the price.”

I breathe deeply through my nose. “I’ll find her.”

“Good.”

I slide the phone away and keep walking, jaw tight.