Page 51 of Marked By the Mob

The older captain’s expression doesn’t change, but I see the understanding in his eyes. He was there the night our fathers died. He knows what happens when trust breaks down.

The meeting stretches for hours. The captains debate how much authority each family should maintain while still cooperating under a stronger alliance. Some want clear territorial divisions. Others argue for shared control over certain operations. Rurik listens to all of it, his pale eyes tracking every argument, every concern.

Finally, he speaks. “Our fathers tried to build this alliance before they died. They failed because they didn’t have the foundation to support it. We do. We have the resources, the contacts, and the loyalty. What we need now is commitment.”

This isn’t really new news. They’ve known we’ve been working toward joining our families for years. It’s why we built this huge house, big enough for the three of us plus lots of extra rooms for family. But this is the first time they’re facing the reality of it.

The room falls silent. Then the older captain nods slowly. “You have mine.”

One by one, the other captains agree. Not all of them are enthusiastic, but they’re willing to try. It’s enough for now.

When the meeting finally ends and the captains leave the estate, the sun is already setting. My shoulders ache from tension, and my mind is still turning over the logistics we discussed. But there’s something else pulling at me, something I can’t ignore.

Emma.

I head toward the secured wing instead of joining Rurik and Artur in the lounge. The guards stationed outside her door straighten when they see me approaching.

“Open it,” I say quietly.

One of them unlocks the door and I step inside. The room is dim, lit only by the fading light through the windows. Emma stands near the glass, her arms crossed over her chest, her silhouette outlined against the darkening sky. She doesn’t turn when I enter.

“Come to explain yourself?” Her voice is cold, sharp.

“I came to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” She finally turns, and the fury in her gray-green eyes rakes over me. “I don’t want to hear excuses or justifications or whatever bullshit you’re planning to say.”

I close the door behind me and move closer, keeping my movements slow and non-threatening. “What happened this morning?—”

“Was murder,” she cuts me off. “You executed a man in your courtyard like it was nothing. Like his life meant nothing.”

“His life meant exactly what he made it mean,” I say quietly. “He chose to betray us. He knew the consequences.”

“He was desperate!”

“He was a liar.” I stop a few feet away from her, close enough to see the way her chest rises and falls with each angry breath. Close enough to notice the way her fitted sweater clings to her breasts and the curve of her waist.

“I’m not part of this.” Her voice shakes slightly, though whether from anger or something else, I can’t tell. “I’m a prisoner.”

I take another step closer. “You helped us improve our shipping routes. You offered tactical advice during the meeting. You danced with us, laughed with us…” I lean in closer. “Fucked us.”

Her hand comes up fast, aiming for my face. I catch her wrist before she can connect, my fingers wrapping around her delicate bones. She tries to pull free, but I hold firm, not hard enough to hurt but enough to keep her still.

“Let go of me,” she hisses.

“Not until you calm down.”

“I am calm!”

“Liar.” I pull her closer, close enough that I can smell the clean scent of her soap and see the flecks of green in her gray eyes. “You’re furious. You’re scared. And you’re trying to convince yourself that what you feel for us isn’t real.”

“I don’t feel anything for you.”

“Another lie.” My free hand slides to her waist, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her sweater. “You felt something when Eduard kissed you in the library. When Artur fucked you in the training room. When Rurik made you come so hard you couldn’t remember your own name.”

Her breathing quickens, her pupils dilating despite the anger still burning in her eyes. “That was just sex.”

“Was it?” I lean closer, my mouth near her ear. “Because it felt like a lot more than that to me.”