Page 104 of Marked By the Mob

The next thirty minutes pass in a blur of greetings and careful positioning. The captains file into the main hall, their expressions ranging from curious to wary. I recognize most of them. Men who’ve served our families for decades, who remember our fathers and the alliance they tried to build before everything fell apart.

They take their assigned seats around the massive table we had brought in specifically for tonight. Rurik sits at the head, Eduard and me flanking him on either side. Emma sits to my right, her posture perfect despite the discomfort I know she’s feeling. Krystal is positioned near the far end, close enough to be included but not so prominent as to draw unwanted attention.

Rurik stands and the room falls silent immediately. His presence commands respect in a way that’s almost physical, and I watch the captains straighten in their chairs.

“Thank you for coming,” Rurik begins, his voice carrying easily through the large space. “Tonight marks a significant moment for our families. For years, we’ve operated separately, maintaining the divisions that formed after our fathers’ deaths. That ends now.”

He pauses, letting the words sink in. I watch the captains’ faces, reading their reactions. Some nod in agreement. Others exchange glances, uncertain.

“The Novikov, Lenkov, and Balabanov families are officially uniting,” Rurik continues. “We’ll maintain our individual operations and territories, but we’ll coordinate strategy, share resources, and present a unified front to anyone who threatens what’s ours.”

One of the older captains, a thick-shouldered man with graying hair who served under my father, leans forward. “This has been happening for years already. Why make it official now?”

“Because we’re ready,” Eduard says, his tone calm but firm. “We’ve spent years rebuilding trust, coordinating operations, and proving we can work together. Making it official gives us strength and sends a message to our rivals that we’re not divided anymore.”

Another captain speaks up, this one from Rurik’s family. “And the woman?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy with implication. I feel Emma tense beside me, her hands curling into fists beneath the table where no one can see.

Rurik’s pale eyes go cold. “Emma Moore is our woman, to be considered our wife. She’s part of this family now, and she’ll be treated with the same respect you show us.”

“She’s FBI,” the captain says flatly. “How do we know she’s not feeding information back to her handlers?”

“Because she’s officially dead,” I say, my voice sharp. “The Bureau declared her presumed deceased and closed her case. She has no handlers. No backup. No one coming to rescue her. She’s here because she chose to be.”

It’s not entirely true. Emma’s here because we bought her at an auction and refused to let her go. But the choice to stay, the decision to be part of this life, that was all Emma and I’ll be damned if I let these bastards question her loyalty.

A younger captain from Eduard’s family shifts in his seat. “What does she bring to the alliance? Beyond…obvious assets.”

The way he says it makes my blood heat with fury. I’m about to tell him exactly where he can shove his implications when Emma speaks.

“Intelligence,” she says, her voice clear and steady. “I spent years investigating organized crime networks, including the Bratva. I know how federal agencies track operations, what patterns they look for, and how to avoid triggering investigations. I can help you move product, launder money, and coordinate shipments without drawing attention.”

The room goes quiet. Every eye turns to Emma, assessing her with new interest.

“I also know how to read people,” she continues, her gray-green eyes sweeping across the table. “How to spot lies, build cases, and gather evidence. Skills that work just as well for you as they did against you.”

One of the captains from Rurik’s family, a man in his fifties with sharp features, leans back in his chair. “And we’re supposed to trust you? An agent who’s spent her career trying to bring down men like us?”

Emma’s jaw tightens, but her voice stays calm. “I’m not asking for your trust. I’m telling you what I can do. Whether you believe me or not is your problem.”

The bluntness of it catches several captains off guard. I see surprise flicker across their faces, followed by something that might even be grudging respect.

“She’s got balls,” the older captain from my father’s time mutters, loud enough for the table to hear. “I’ll give her that.”

A few others nod in agreement. The tension in the room shifts slightly, not quite acceptance but not outright hostility either.

Rurik continues the meeting, outlining the structure of the unified families, the division of territories, and the coordination of operations. The captains ask questions, raise concerns, and debate details. Through it all, Emma sits beside me, her posture perfect, her expression neutral.

But I can feel the tension radiating off her. The way her breathing stays carefully controlled. The slight tremor in her hands that she hides by keeping them folded in her lap.

This is costing her more than she’s letting on.

The meeting stretches past two hours. By the time Rurik finally calls for a vote on the formal unification, my shoulders ache from tension, and my patience is wearing thin.

The vote passes. Not unanimously, but with enough support that the dissenters won’t risk open rebellion. Relief floods through me, warm and unexpected.

We did it. The families are officially united.