Possessing the Princess

“The guy with the military knife from the Autodrome,” I clued in the witless wonder.

“That is Zain.”

“Zain then. I want him. As for the rest of your bodyguards, they’re as incompetent as you are.” With that, I abruptly ended the call.

Blyad.My nerves were jangling. My body stretched tight and all my muscles straining.

By the time I got off the call with the royal pizda, Konstantin had assembled our soldiers and lumped large black duffels stuffed with guns, gear, and ammo near the elevator.

Yas wheeled away from her computer station.

“Did you get the location,” I asked, shucking out of my suit right in front of the woman so I could don the stealth gear.

“Of course.” She tossed me my boots and gun belt.

The cuffs I’d presented to Roya contained tracking chips, one in each bangle in case the unforeseen happened. Those microchips emitted a dedicated signal capable of being zoomed in on to the exact meter of Roya’s whereabouts.

Waterproof, smash proof, and virtually indestructible thanks to Yasmin’s hardcore skills.

My safety net.

Thank fuck Roya hadn’t found a way to remove those cuffs. I hoped.

Drawing on my T-shirt, I stared at Yas from beneath lowered brows. “Where is she?”

She pointed at the blinking icon on the map pulled up on the monitor.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered blackly.

Konstantin also took a look then frowned. “Iran? Why would he take her there?”

“To get her completely away from her father’s jurisdiction.” Unfortunately, it was a pretty decent plan, but I was prepared to massacre everybody who stood between me and Roya.

After making sure everyone had an earpiece linked to the coms Yas had rigged up, I issued the order to fall out.

Me, Konstantin, Yas, and the soldiers convened in the parking garage. Konstantin had just finished checking that each of our blacked-out vans was loaded up when a helmeted man on a sleek motorcycle came roaring to a stop beside us.

Zain.

After he popped off the bike, I met his extended palm. “Good of you to come. Are you armed?”

“Always.”

Good man.

Barely keeping a tight lid on the savage mix of fury and fear, I tried not to contemplate all the awful things Roya’s uncle and his hired assholes could do to her before I reached her.

While the soldiers piled into vans, I pushed Zain toward the lead vehicle, a massive SUV. “She’s in Iran.” I hopped behind the wheel, Zain grabbing a seat behind me with Konstantin as Yas took shotgun position. “In Hormozgan Province, directly across the Persian Gulf to be precise.”

“And how exactly are we getting to Iran?” the Arabian man with the military-short buzzcut asked.

“I have a super yacht. Doesn’t everyone in Dubai?” Hammering my foot down on the gas, I led the column of vehicles out onto the street.

“That’ll be too—”

“Slow. I know.” I sent a sharp grin at Zain through the rearview mirror. “And speedboats.”

A look of appraisal passed over his face.

“I might not be quite as wealthy as your asshole employer, but my army is bigger and much more capable.” I weaved in and out of traffic like a fucking Formula 1 driver. “And I will not stop until I have Roya back in my arms and Abdullah is nothing more than bloodied pulp and bone.”

I knew now how much Roya was worth.

And I’d destroy the rest of the fucking world just to get to her.