“No,” I say, determined. “This isn’t your fault. We’re going to get her back.”
With just one call, I can have twenty men right behind Dmitry, all of them fighting to bring his wife home safely. Him rushing in alone is risky, stupid. Our father trained us to be smarter than that.
“I don’t have time, Matvei,” he says with a warning tone. I can tell he doesn’t want me to say it again, but I have to.
“You have a goddamn son to think about, Dmitry. You can’t go rushing into things like this. Where are you going? Give me an address.”
Almost reluctantly, he says, “It’s that old abandoned car factory a few miles out of town. You know the one.”
I do know the one. It’s fifteen minutes from here, give or take, at the speed I’m planning to drive. I stand up from my seat and grab my keys.
Downsta
