Chapter 6 - The Betrayal at the Docks
The confrontation at the gala was the catalyst that pushed Matteo Moretti over the edge. Realizing that Viktor was consolidating his power and that Emma had given the Rostov family an untouchable emotional strength, Matteo decided to launch an all-out strike.
Three days after the ball, Emma was traveling back to the estate from a specialized children’s bookstore in Brooklyn, escorted by two of Viktor’s best guards in an armored SUV.
As they crossed under the shadow of the industrial docks near the East River, a massive delivery truck blew through a red light, T-boning the SUV and sending it spinning out of control into an abandoned warehouse lot.
Before the dazed guards could recover, six armed men smashed the vehicle’s windows, dragging Emma out into the cold night air.
Emma fought back fiercely, kicking and scratching, but she was overwhelmed, bound with heavy plastic ties, and thrown into the back of a van.
An hour later, Emma was tied to a wooden chair in the middle of a sprawling, rusted shipyard warehouse. Standing in front of her was Matteo Moretti, swirling a glass of bourbon, flanked by ten heavily armed enforcers.
“You’re a brave woman, baker,” Matteo laughed, stepping close to slap her face lightly. “A bit too heavy for my taste, but Viktor seems to think you’re priceless. Let’s see how much he’s willing to trade for you.”
Emma spat a mouthful of blood onto Matteo’s polished leather shoes. “He will kill you, Matteo. You don't understand what kind of man he is when someone touches what he loves.”
Matteo’s smile faded, replaced by an ugly snarl. He pulled a radio transmitter from his coat. “Call Viktor Rostov. Tell him I have his precious woman at Dock 42. If he wants her alive, he comes alone, surrenders his distribution rights to the East Coast, and kneels on this concrete.”
Ten minutes passed in suffocating silence.
Then, the warehouse doors didn't open. They were blown off their hinges by a military-grade plastic explosive.
The deafening roar echoed through the steel rafters. Rauch bombs filled the room with thick white smoke.
Before Matteo’s men could fire a single shot, Viktor Rostov materialized through the fog like an immortal shadow. He wasn't accompanied by a army; he was a one-man war machine. With frightening, surgical speed, Viktor eliminated the gunmen one by one, his silenced weapons cutting through the dark with lethal rhythm.
Matteo panicked, grabbing Emma by her hair and pulling a revolver to her temple. “Stop, Viktor! Or I blow her head off!”
The smoke cleared slightly. Viktor stood thirty feet away, covered in rain and blood, his eyes glowing with an unholy fire.
“Put the gun down, Matteo,” Viktor said, his voice chillingly calm.
“Give me the distribution contracts!” Matteo screamed, his hands shaking violently against Emma’s forehead. “Sign them or she dies!”
Emma looked at Viktor. She saw no fear in his eyes—only a profound, absolute trust.
Emma suddenly dropped her weight down hard, driving her elbow back with all her strength into Matteo’s groin. Matteo gasped in agony, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second.
It was the only window Viktor needed.
A single gunshot cracked through the warehouse. A red dot appeared precisely between Matteo Moretti’s eyes. He crumpled to the floor like a sack of stone.
Viktor dropped his weapon, sprinting across the blood-slicked concrete. He dropped to his knees, slicing Emma’s plastic ties with a pocket knife and pulling her hard against his chest.
“Emma... Emma...” Viktor breathed heavily, burying his face in her neck, his body trembling violently. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you?”
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Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly as tears finally spilled over her cheeks. “I’m okay, Viktor. I’m okay.”
Viktor pulled back, cradling her face in his hands, his thumb gently wiping away a tear. “I almost lost you,” he choked out. “I can lose my empire, my wealth, my life... but I cannot lose you, Emma.”
