Page 22 of Marked By the Mob

The guard acknowledges the order and leaves immediately, speaking rapidly into his radio as he goes. Within seconds, I can hear the response crackle back, confirming the team is moving into position.

I turn my attention back to the monitors, cycling through different camera angles. The interior feeds show guards moving through the house in coordinated patterns, checking rooms and securing access points. Everything looks normal. No signs of intrusion. No unexpected movement.

But something nags at me. A feeling I can’t quite name.

“Pull up the exterior cameras again,” I say to the guard at the console. “All angles on the eastern fence.”

He complies. The wall of monitors shifts to show multiple views of the same area from different positions. I study each onecarefully, looking for anything out of place. The fence is intact. The floodlights are working. The motion sensors are functioning as designed.

My radio crackles. “Control, this is Team Three. We’re at the breach point.”

Rurik picks up the handset. “Report.”

“Sir, we’ve located the source of the alarm. It’s a fox. Looks like it squeezed through a damaged section of fencing near the drainage culvert.”

I exchange glances with Rurik and Artur. A fox. Not an assault team. Not a reconnaissance probe. Just a fucking fox.

“Secure the damaged section,” Rurik orders. “I want it repaired within the hour. And increase patrols along that fence line for the rest of the night.”

“Yes, sir.”

The radio goes silent. For a moment, none of us speak. Then Artur laughs, the sound sharp and slightly bitter. “A fox. We mobilized the entire estate for a goddamn fox.”

“Better to overreact than underreact,” Rurik says, but there’s a hint of frustration in his voice. He hates false alarms, hates anything that disrupts the careful order he’s built.

I move to the console and begin shutting down the alarm system, resetting the sensors to their normal monitoring state. The wailing finally stops, leaving behind a ringing silence that feels almost as loud. Around us, the guards begin standing down, their postures relaxing slightly as the immediate threat passes.

“Run a full diagnostic on the sensor grid,” I tell the guard at the console. “I want to know if that section of fence has been compromised for long or if this is new damage.”

He nods and gets to work, pulling up maintenance logs and system reports. I watch over his shoulder for a moment, but my mind is already moving to the next concern.

Emma.

The thought of her hits me suddenly, sharp and unexpected. She’s locked in her room in the east wing, probably heard the alarm, probably has no idea what’s happening. For all she knows, we’re under attack. Or worse, someone’s coming for her.

The memory of earlier surfaces unbidden and I force the thoughts away, but they linger at the edges of my mind, distracting and dangerous.

“I’m going to check the interior feeds,” I say, more to give myself something to do than because it’s necessary. “Make sure nothing happened inside during the confusion.”

Rurik glances at me, his pale eyes sharp. He knows. Of course he knows. But he just nods. “Good. I want a full report in twenty minutes.”

I leave the control room and head down the hallway toward the security office where we keep the backup monitoring station. It’s quieter here, away from the organized chaos of the main control room. I settle into the chair and pull up the interior camera feeds, starting with the main floor and working my way through each level systematically.

Everything looks normal. Guards are returning to their posts. The house is settling back into its usual rhythm. I cycle through the feeds methodically, checking each room and corridor.

My thoughts drift as I work. Emma’s revelation about her friend Krystal changes things. Not in a way that makes me want to let her go, but in a way that makes me understand her better. She’s not just some reckless FBI agent chasing glory. She’s a woman trying to save someone she loves.

I respect that. Hell, I understand it better than she probably realizes. The three of us built this entire operation on the foundation of loyalty and family. We united our families because we refused to let our fathers’ deaths destroy what they’d built. We’ve spent years protecting the people under our care, making sure no one else suffers the way we did.

In a twisted way, Emma and I want the same thing. We just happen to be on opposite sides of the law.

The thought makes me smile despite everything. When we bought her at that auction, I wasn’t sure what we were getting. Now I know. We got exactly what we needed, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

She’s beautiful too, which wasn’t a requirement but is definitely a bonus. The way her gray-green eyes flash when she’s angry.

I shift in my chair, forcing myself to focus on the monitors. This isn’t the time to get distracted by memories of how she felt wrapped around me.

I cycle through the east wing feeds, checking the corridors near Emma’s room. The guards should be at their posts, two men stationed outside her door at all times. Standard protocol for ahigh-value—I pause, not sure what to call her. Prisoner? Asset? Future wife?