The Woman In His War

Chapter Seven: His Most Dangerous Feeling

Ricci found him mid-laugh. That was the part that stayed with him afterward.

Viktor Savino stood beside a senator near the west bar, one hand resting against the man's shoulder while two of them shared some story expensive enough to belong only to powerful men. He was completely present and invested in the conversation. Then Ricci appeared at the edge of his vision. Something in Ricci’s face changed everything because Viktor’s laugh finished naturally.

"Excuse me," he said to the senator, his voice warm with apology. "One moment.”

He stepped away from the conversation while Ricci leaned close and spoke quietly to him. Viktor's eyes changed first. The warmth disappeared from them so completely it was almost shocking. Not replaced with anger. This was older than anger.

"Which exit?" Viktor asked

"Service corridor and the North terrace door." Ricci kept his voice beneath the music. "Cameras show two men. The car was already waiting.”

"How long ago?"

"Forty minutes.”

Viktor nodded once. His eyes swept across the room again. He looked toward the senator.

"The senator,” Viktor said softly. “Make sure he has a car, personal driver and clear the study in twenty minutes.”

Ricci moved immediately. Behind him, Viktor turned back toward the party. He spoke to the deputy minister about infrastructure funding while holding a whiskey glass he never once drank from. Nobody watching him would have guessed his daughter had been taken from inside his own home. After fourteen minutes, he said goodbye to the deputy minister and the senator. Then he rished toward the private corridor. Three men had waited for him inside. Ricci. Fausto. And the attorney Viktor only used when outcomes needed to survive courtrooms and governments. The click of the latch door sounded loud behind him.

“Morretti,” he mentioned, his eyes lifted to Ricci. “Everything that has moved in the last seventy-two hours. Accounts. Vehicles. Safe properties. Shell companies. Every legitimate structure he’s touched in the last month.”

Ricci was already reaching for his phone.

Fausto leaned forward carefully. “Do you want us to move on his known compounds?”

“No.” Viktor looked at Fausto directly. “Nothing moves without my instruction. She is unharmed, Morretti took leverage, not a corpse. Which means Serena remains more valuable alive than dead.”

Viktor moved toward the window. The outside of the gala still glowed gold beneath the night sky. Music drifted faintly through the walls. Guests laughed over expensive wine.

“The foundation audit,” he mentioned.

Ricci looked up to ask what he meant. “The pending one?”

“Yes.”

Even Fausto understood immediately where this was going.

“The foundation is Serena’s,” Ricci stated.

“I know exactly whose it is. Accelerate it immediately.”

Ricci hesitated for half a second. That half second almost got him killed. Viktor turned his head slowly and the warmth in his expression was gone again.

“You disagree?”

“N-no, sir. I didn’t mean…” Ricci’s voice faltered as he avoided eye contact.

“Sometimes,” Viktor continued, “we protect people in ways they cannot understand yet.”

Viktor turned back to the window. Below, cars were beginning to leave the estate. Tail lights moved slowly down the gravel. Somewhere beyond those gates, Serena was sitting inside Moretti’s control. And Viktor knew exactly how she would be behaving. Straight spine. Composed voice. And fear hidden so deeply only someone who raised her would see it. His throat tightened unexpectedly with his two fingers pressed against the cold glass.

“Find out who helped him inside. Someone knew her movement. I want the name before sunrise.”

The room erupted into motion. Fausto coordinating security teams.

Ricci already tracing staff schedules. The attorney started pulling up legal structures for the foundation audit. Viktor still remained motionless at the window. He thought about Serena at fourteen, furious because a museum director dismissed her opinion during a private viewing. Thought about the way she had stood beside him afterward, eyes burning, demanding to know why older men mistook arrogance for intelligence. He thought about her calling him two months ago about a foundation acquisition. She had sounded happy. Actually happy. He thought about her absence, the empty seat at his table and the silence where her voice should have been.

The knowledge that somewhere tonight his daughter was frightened and hiding it because that was what he had taught her to do.

His chest tightened hard enough to hurt.