Page 25 of Marked By the Mob

The sight of her sends conflicting emotions through me. Relief that she’s safe and unharmed. Frustration that she took such a reckless risk. And something darker, more possessive, that tightens in my chest at the thought of how close she came to getting past our security.

Artur moves into the room behind us, his expression hard as he takes in the scene. The door clicks shut, and he positions himselfin front of it, blocking the only exit. The message is clear. Emma isn’t going anywhere.

“Well,” Artur says, his voice carrying an edge I recognize as impatience. “Look what we found.”

Emma’s gaze flicks to him then back to Rurik and me. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to explain or justify. She just watches us with that sharp intelligence I’ve come to expect from her, calculating her next move even though she knows her escape is over.

Rurik moves first, his steps measured and controlled as he approaches the desk. His pale blue eyes sweep across the surface, taking in the scattered photographs and documents Emma was clearly examining before we arrived. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, the only visible sign of his anger.

He reaches past Emma without looking at her, his hand going to the desk drawer. I watch as he pulls it open and retrieves a leather-bound ledger I recognize immediately. My father kept one just like it. Records of deals, contacts, debts owed and paid. The kind of information that could destroy families if it fell into the wrong hands.

Emma’s eyes follow Rurik’s movements, and I see the moment she realizes what she was looking at, what she almost found. Her expression shifts, just slightly, from defiance to something more calculating. She’s filing this information away, storing it for later use.

Rurik slides the ledger back into a hidden compartment I didn’t even know existed then closes the drawer with deliberate care. The soft click of the mechanism engaging sounds unnaturally loud in the quiet room.

The tension thickens. None of us speak. The only sound is our breathing and the faint hum of the estate’s climate control system.

Emma managed to reach the most private part of our home during the chaos. This study, this room we’ve kept locked and preserved, is where we keep memories and our fathers’ things. She walked through corridors we rarely use, past security we thought was impenetrable, and found her way to the one place that holds our most guarded secrets.

I should be furious. Should be thinking about how to tighten security and how to prevent this from happening again. But part of me can’t help being impressed. She’s resourceful, intelligent, and brave to the point of recklessness. Everything we said we wanted in a wife.

Even if she’s currently trying to destroy us.

Rurik turns to face Emma fully, his expression unreadable. “You have thirty seconds to explain what you were doing in here.”

Emma’s chin lifts higher. “Looking for answers.”

“Answers to what?”

“What you’re hiding. Why you bought me.” Her voice is steady, controlled. “I’m not going to apologize for trying to understand the men who claim to own me.”

Artur laughs, sharp and bitter. “Claim to own you? Sweetheart, we paid ten million dollars for you. That’s not a claim. That’s a fact.”

“Don’t call me that,” Emma snaps, her eyes flashing as she turns toward him.

“Then stop acting like you have any fucking choice in this situation.” Artur pushes away from the door, moving closer. “You’re here because we want you here. You stay because we allow it. And you sure as hell don’t get to go snooping through our private shit without consequences.”

Emma’s hands curl into fists at her sides. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her weight shifts slightly onto the balls of her feet. She’s preparing to fight if she has to. The realization sends heat through me that has nothing to do with anger.

“What are you going to do?” Emma challenges. “Lock me in my room? Chain me to the bed? Beat me until I learn my place?”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, stepping forward before this escalates further. “Nobody’s beating anyone.”

“Then what?” Emma’s gaze swings to me, and I feel the impact of those gray-green eyes like a physical touch. “What happens now, Eduard? You drag me back to my cage and pretend this didn’t happen?”

“That’s exactly what happens,” Rurik says quietly. His voice is calm and controlled, but I hear the steel underneath. “Guards will escort you back to the east wing. The door will be secured. And you will not leave that room again without explicit permission from one of us.”

Emma’s expression hardens. “So I’m a prisoner.”

“You’ve always been a prisoner,” Artur says, his tone sharp. “The only difference is now you’ve proven you can’t be trusted with even the smallest amount of freedom.”

Something flashes across Emma’s face. Pain, maybe, or fury. It’s gone so quickly, I almost think I imagined it. Then she moves.

She doesn’t run for the door or try to fight her way past us. Instead, she grabs one of the framed photographs from the desk and hurls it at Artur with surprising force.

He dodges easily, the frame shattering against the wall behind him. Glass sprays across the floor, glittering in the lamplight.

“Feel better?” Artur asks, his voice dangerously soft.