Page 40 of Marked By the Mob

“But you know people who do.” I step closer, my heart pounding. “The auction where you bought me. You were there. You participated.”

“We were there to findyou,” he says quietly. “Or someone like you. Not to support what those bastards do.”

The admission catches me off guard. I want to believe him, want to think that these men are somehow different from the criminals who traffic women across borders. But I’ve seen too much and know too much about how these networks operate.

“Baltic Logistics,” I say, changing direction. “They’re connected to more than just shipping, aren’t they?”

Eduard’s jaw tightens. “Yes.”

“Are they moving people? The last confirmed place Krystal was seen alive was at a private party where Baltic Logistics controlled who came in and who left,” I repeat, crossing my arms. I’m suddenly cold despite the warm afternoon light. “I could be them. I’ve been chasing that connection for months, and now I find out you do business with them.”

Eduard moves back to the desk, his movements careful and controlled. “Emma, you need to understand something. Baltic Logistics works with dozens of criminal organizations across multiple countries. If they were involved in your friend’s disappearance, it could have been for any number of clients.”

“I know that.” My voice is tight. “But it’s the first real lead I’ve had in a year… Well, other than the bride auction, of course.”

“And if you go after them too hard, too fast, you’ll start a conflict with every syndicate that uses their services.” Eduard’s tone is gentle but firm. “Including some that would make what happened at that auction look like a fucking picnic.”

The warning is clear. Whatever I’m thinking about doing, it’s dangerous. Not just for me, but potentially for the three men who bought me.

I should care about that. Should factor their safety into my calculations. But all I can think about is Krystal’s face the last time I saw her, bright and trusting and so damn naive about the world she was walking into.

“I have to know what happened to her,” I say quietly.

Eduard nods slowly. “I understand. But you need to be smart about how you find out.”

We stand in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken things pressing down between us. Then Eduard returns to his work and I move back to the bookshelves, pretending to browse while my mind races.

I flip through pages without really seeing them, my thoughts spinning. If Baltic Logistics is delivering something to this estate on Thursday, it might be my first real chance to find out what happened to Krystal. But Eduard is right about the risk. If I push too hard and the wrong people notice, it could trigger exactly the kind of violence these men have been trying to avoid.

I close the book and slide it back onto the shelf, my decision already made. I’ll be careful. I’ll be smart. But I’m not going to let this opportunity pass.

As I leave the library, Eduard calls after me. “Emma.”

I pause in the doorway and turn back.

“Whatever you’re planning,” he says quietly, “don’t do it alone.”

I don’t answer. I just nod once and step into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me.

The corridor is empty except for two guards, afternoon light slanting through the windows and casting long shadows across the marble floor. I start walking toward the main staircase, my mind already working through possibilities and scenarios.

Then I stop.

The realization hits me so suddenly, I have to brace one hand against the wall.

If the same company connected to Krystal’s disappearance is delivering something to this estate later this week, it’s not justan opportunity to gather information. It’s a direct link between my best friend’s kidnapping and the three men who now claim to own me.

Which means either they know more than they’re telling me or we’re all caught in something much bigger and more dangerous than any of us realized.

18

RURIK

Emma walks into the smaller dining room like she owns the place, and I can’t decide if that irritates me or turns me on. Probably both.

She’s wearing dark jeans that hug her ass perfectly and a fitted black sweater that shows off her curves without trying too hard. Her dark hair is pulled back in that practical braid she favors.

The dining room overlooks the gardens, and the afternoon sunlight streams through the tall windows, casting warm light across the polished table. It’s a smaller, more intimate space than the formal dining hall we use for business meetings. The kind of room meant for family.