Page 101 of Cruel Obsession

The woman in the hallway nags at my thoughts. Something in her movements, the flash of her profile. She reminded me of—

I shake my head, frustration peeling out as the answer evades me.

But as I pull away from my father’s property, I catch a glimpse in the rearview mirror—a pale face at an upstairs window, watching me leave. When I look again, it’s gone.

But I know what I saw. And I’m coming back for her. For all of them.

Even if it means destroying the Laurov name in the process.

Some legacies aren’t worth preserving.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Arkady

My father’s keeping dozens of innocent girls captive.

Again.

The realization has been burning through my skull all night, keeping sleep at bay. I’ve been pacing the study since three in the morning, the crystal tumbler in my hand refilled twice already. The vodka doesn’t burn anymore—nothing does when rage runs this cold.

Dawn breaks through the windows, highlighting my bruised knuckles. The fist-shaped dent in the mahogany paneling is fresh—evidence of the moment I first processed what my father has done.

Again.

I thought Gavriil Laurov had learned his lesson when I put three of his men in the ground the day we ran Operation Blackout. The fucking old man promised he was done with trafficking.

Some promises are written in blood. His will be, after today.

By morning, as I watch the grounds of my estate come alive through the window, my thoughts harden into razor-sharp clarity. I know exactly what needs to be done. This calls for precision. For calculated violence. For another operation like Blackout—but refined. Improved. We lost two men last time. This time, everyone on my team walks out alive.

Every girl in that warehouse will be free by dawn tomorrow.

I reach for my phone, scrolling past a dozen missed calls from business associates who suddenly don’t matter. I find the contact I need first.

“Stefan.” My voice is as rough as coarse salt.

“Boss?” He answers immediately despite the early hour. Probably been up all night too. I can only imagine what he and his wife must be going through.

“I need you here by 4 p.m.”

A heartbeat of silence. “Is it about Julia?” There’s a painful hope in his question. “Have you found something?”

“Da.” I don’t elaborate—can’t risk saying more over an unsecured line.

“Thank God.” He releases a shuddering breath. “I’ll be there, boss.”

The call ends, and I dial Yanis immediately. My brother answers on the second ring.

“Something’s wrong.” Not a question. Yanis knows me too well.

“Father.” I spit the word like poison. “Be at my house at 4 p.m. It’s important.”

The line goes silent. I can almost see Yanis sitting straighter, the playboy mask falling away. “What did the old man do now?” His voice has gone dangerously quiet.

“The same shit as six years ago. He’s back in the trafficking business. I need your help.”

“Blyad,”he mutters. Then, with renewed steel: “You can count on me,bratok.”