Page 26 of Marked By the Mob

“Not even close,” Emma snarls.

Artur moves fast, closing the distance between them in two strides. His hand wraps around Emma’s wrist, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to control. “You want to throw things? Fine. Let’s take this somewhere you can’t destroy irreplaceable family history.”

He starts pulling her toward the door, but Emma jerks free with a sharp twist of her arm.

“Don’t touch me,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Then walk on your own.” Artur gestures toward the hallway. “Either way, you’re leaving this room.”

Emma doesn’t move. She stands her ground, her chest heaving with barely controlled fury. For a moment, I think she’s going to attack him. The tension between them crackles like electricity, dangerous and volatile.

Then she shoves him.

Both hands against his chest, hard enough to make him take a step back. Artur’s eyes flash with something dark and heated. He grabs her wrists again, this time pinning them between their bodies as he crowds into her space.

“You really want to do this again?” His voice is low, rough. “Because I’m more than happy to remind you how that ended last time.”

Emma’s face flushes, but whether it’s from anger or something else, I can’t tell. “Let go of me.”

“Make me.”

They’re seconds away from either fighting or fucking, and neither option is acceptable right now.

I move between them, my hand on Artur’s shoulder. “Enough.”

He doesn’t release her immediately. His dark eyes stay locked on Emma’s face, reading something there I can’t see. Then he lets go and steps back, his jaw tight with frustration.

Emma immediately puts distance between them, moving toward the opposite side of the room. Her hands are shaking slightly, though she tries to hide it by crossing her arms.

Guards appear in the doorway, drawn by the sound of breaking glass. They look to Rurik for orders, their expressions carefully neutral, even though they must have heard at least part of the confrontation.

Rurik studies Emma for a long moment, his pale eyes assessing. I can see him weighing options, considering consequences. Finally, he speaks. “She doesn’t go back to the east wing.”

The words hang in the air. Artur’s head snaps toward Rurik, surprise flickering across his face before he masks it. Emma’s eyes narrow, suspicion replacing some of her anger.

“What?” she asks.

Rurik’s gaze doesn’t leave her face. “You’ve proven you can’t be trusted alone. The alarm gave you an opportunity, and you took it. That won’t happen again.”

“So what’s the alternative?” Emma’s voice is sharp. “You’re going to watch me twenty-four hours a day?”

“Yes.”

The single word drops like a stone. Emma’s eyes widen fractionally, and I see her processing the implications. No more privacy. No more time to plan escapes or search for weaknesses. Constant supervision by the three men she’s sworn to destroy.

“You can’t be serious,” she says.

“I’m completely serious.” Rurik moves closer, his presence commanding even in stillness. “You will stay with us. In our wing. Where we can keep an eye on you at all times.”

12

EMMA

My pulse quickens as we move through corridors I haven’t seen before, deeper into the private section of the estate. Eduard walks beside me while Artur follows behind, their presence a silent reminder that escape isn’t an option right now. The hallway narrows slightly, the lighting softer here, more intimate. This istheirterritory. Their home within the fortress.

Rurik stops at a set of double doors and pushes them open without ceremony.

The bedroom beyond steals my breath.