Page 5 of Marked By the Mob

I watch with respect and a bit of amusement as the woman stands in the center of the stage, breathing hard, her hands still shackled but her head held high. She scans the crowd with those sharp eyes, and I know exactly what she is doing. Planning her next move.

She is magnificent.

I glance at Artur. His expression mirrors what I am thinking. The crooked grin spreading across his face tells me he sees it too. Strength and fire, everything we said our wife would need to survive in our world.

Eduard meets my gaze from my other side and nods once. We all agree silently. This is the woman we have been searching for.

The auctioneer recovers quickly from the disruption, gesturing for another handler to secure the woman while the injured man is dragged offstage. “As you can see, gentlemen, this one has spirit. She will require a firm hand. But for the right buyer, she will be worth every dollar.”

He pauses, letting the tension build.

“Bidding starts at five hundred thousand dollars.”

The room explodes with activity. Hands shoot up. Voices call out bids in multiple languages.

Within seconds, the price climbs to seven hundred thousand. Then eight hundred.

The woman remains on the stage, her expression cold and calculating as she watches the chaos unfold around her.

A voice from the front row shouts a bid of one million dollars. I recognize the buyer. Aleksander Volkov’s lieutenant. If Volkov wants her, it’s bad news for the woman. Volkov is a different kind of dangerous.

I raise my hand calmly. “Two million.”

The room goes quiet for a heartbeat. Then the bidding resumes with renewed aggression.

Volkov’s man counters immediately. Another buyer from a rival syndicate joins in. The price climbs rapidly.

Artur shifts beside me, his hand resting casually near the weapon concealed beneath his jacket. “How high are we going?”

“As high as necessary,” I reply without looking at him.

Eduard pulls out his phone and begins transferring funds into the account we set up for tonight. “We have the resources. The question is whether we want to make that many enemies in one night.”

“We already have enemies,” I say flatly. “What matters is leaving here with her.”

The bidding reaches three million. Then four. Several buyers drop out, unable or unwilling to match the escalating price. Volkov’s lieutenant remains aggressive, clearly operating under orders to secure the woman at any cost.

I wait until he places his next bid. Five million dollars.

Then I double it.

“Ten million,” I announce clearly, my voice cutting through the noise.

The warehouse falls silent. Every head turns toward the back of the room where we stand. I meet the stares without flinching, my expression calm and controlled. Beside me, Artur grins like a wolf, while Eduard remains perfectly still, his gray eyes cold and assessing.

The auctioneer recovers first. “Ten million dollars. Do I hear eleven?”

Silence.

Volkov’s lieutenant glances toward the exit, clearly communicating with someone outside. After a long moment, he shakes his head and steps back.

No one else moves.

“Ten million going once,” the auctioneer calls. “Going twice.” He pauses dramatically. “Sold!”

The room erupts again, but this time the energy is different, wary and calculating.

We just made a very public statement about how much we value this woman, and every criminal in this warehouse will remember it.