Page 75 of Prey of the Bratva

His smile widened.

“I would be,” he replied, “if you had succeeded.”

Silence stretched between us for a moment, thick but not suffocating.

I let it sit so he could continue talking. Men like him always did. He moved again, pacing slowly now, his voice taking on a conversational tone that made everything he was saying even worse.

“Do you have any idea how large this network is?” he asked. “How many shipments move through it in a month? How many people do we have? How much money do we make? How the world works for us and around us?”

I didn’t answer. He didn’t need me to. I already knew he would continue asking questions and answering them all by himself. That was the problem with men like him: they justneeded an audience to listen because that was how unfulfilled and unhappy they were with the lives they lived.

“Hundreds,” he said anyway. “Thousands, if we count redistribution. We have clients spreading across continents and politicians who were paid off before they even realized what they’re protecting. We have entire ports operating under adjusted priorities that only benefit us.”

Each word landed like confirmation and proof. Like everything I had suspected, it was laid out without hesitation.

“Did you really think,” he continued, glancing back at me, “that passion and a small team of women could collapse something like that? Something that big?”

I let out a quiet breath.

“Yes,” I said simply.

That stopped him just for a second, but then he laughed as if I was making a joke. His laugh sounded soft and genuine, which was quite an indication of his self-confidence. He truly believed he had put an end to all of it. To me and my mission. And he thought he had me here forever, and I would never be able to escape. He wouldn’t divulge this information before me otherwise.

“You do have an uncanny amount of confidence for someone in handcuffs,” he said. “I admire that.”

My wrists shifted again, subtly testing the give in the metal. There was nothing. They were secure and well bolted. Which only meant I would have to find another way. He stepped closer this time, stopping just within my space, his presence deliberate.

“You caused problems,” he added. “You caused disruptions in our network which were enough to get attention and enough to make this necessary.”

His hand gestured vaguely around the room. “Congratulations, but please remember I didn’t want this to happen. You brought this on yourself with your headstrong behavior and stupidity.”

I met his gaze without hesitation. “So kidnapping me is the solution to all of your problems?”

His eyes sharpened slightly at that, something colder slipping through the amusement.

“No,” he agreed.

I leaned back slightly in the chair, as much as the restraints allowed, letting my expression settle into something almost bored.

“Then what is the plan?” I asked. “Because this feels inefficient.”

That earned me another look, which was much longer and more assessing this time.

“You’re very calm,” he noted.

“I don’t see the benefit of panic,” I replied.

“Most people would panic in a situation such as this.”

“I’m not most people.”

“No,” he said softly. “You’re not.”

He moved again, slower now, more deliberate.

“And you’re not just a Chernykh anymore, are you?” he added.

My focus sharpened. “What is that supposed to mean?”