There was a brief moment of tension as he burst through the door and a number of servants scrambled to halt him. Only the barked command of the butler prevented bloodshed as Edmond shoved aside the baffled footmen and rushed up the staircase.
His hectic charge, however, faltered as he realized that the door to Brianna’s chamber was wide open and a uniformed guard was standing just over the threshold.
A cold, savage fear clutched his stomach as he forced his way past the servant, his narrowed gaze sweeping over the sitting room before landing upon Vanya, who was pacing the floor with nervous steps. He did not need to be told that Brianna was gone. He could feel it in the heavy emptiness that filled the room. In the dull ache that pulsed in the center of his chest.
“Brianna.”
With a tiny gasp, Vanya turned to regard him with a startled gaze. “Edmond.”
“Where is she?”
The older woman pressed a trembling hand to her ample bosom. “Viktor Kazakov took her.”
“Where?” He was not even aware he had moved until his hands were grasping Vanya’s shoulders and he was glaring into her pale face. “Where did he take her?”
“Easy, Edmond.” There was the sound of footsteps behind him and then Richard Monroe was moving to stand behind Vanya, his face carefully set as he tugged the older woman from Edmond’s tight grip. “We are as anxious as you to ensure Miss Quinn’s safe return.”
Edmond swallowed his furious words at Monroe’s unwelcome interruption. Vanya was clearly rattled and in need of the older man’s steady comfort. It would no doubt make his questioning easier if she had the man to lean upon.
“Tell me what happened.”
With an effort, Vanya sucked in a deep breath and composed her panicked thoughts.
“He…he just appeared in the doorway to Brianna’s rooms with a gun in his hand. He demanded that Brianna accompany him.” Vanya held out her hand to reveal a crumpled piece of parchment. “He left this for you.”
Smoothing the paper open, Edmond read the neatly printed words aloud:
A sacrifice is not worthy unless it is paid in blood. It is for you to choose. Your heart or your soul. Your lover or your country. One or the other will bleed.
Richard grunted in disgust as Edmond cursed and tossed the note onto the floor.
“How tediously melodramatic Russians tend to be.”
Under other circumstances, Edmond might have laughed at the flowery threat. Even for Viktor Kazakov, the words were absurdly theatrical, as if he intended to have them read upon a stage or shouted from the rooftops.
And perhaps he did.
Christ. Edmond shoved his fingers through his tousled hair. No doubt Viktor was already envisioning the days when he was in power and the events of this evening would be celebrated as some grand victory over tyranny. The idiot was just pompous enough to have written the note with the thought it would be framed in a museum someday.
“If he so much as leaves a bruise on Brianna I will choke the life from him,” Edmond muttered, his hands clenching as the black fury pounded through him. “Slowly.”
With a small, wounded cry, Vanya moved forward, her fingers clutching the tense muscles of Edmond’s forearm.
“Oh, Edmond, forgive me.”
“What is it, Vanya?”
“I should have done something to stop Viktor,” she breathed, her cheeks damp with tears. “I have always thought myself so brave, and capable of dealing with any situation. But I feared he might become violent if I called for the servants and so I let him
take her away without so much as lifting a hand in protest. What a damnable coward I am.”
Knowing the older woman would torture herself for failing to have kept Brianna from harm, Edmond tugged her into his arms and gave her a swift hug.
“Hush, Vanya, it is all right,” he muttered. “I will soon have Brianna home safe and sound.”
“How?” Tilting back her head, Vanya regarded Edmond with a terrified expression. “Dear God, Edmond, how will you ever find her?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE