Page 58 of Marked By the Mob

I sit quietly as I work, my mind spinning through scenarios. If Langford is involved, how deep does it go? Was he working with the auction network from the beginning? Did he know about Krystal’s disappearance? Did he approve my operation, knowing I’d be captured?

The questions pile up faster than I can process them.

By the time evening settles over the estate, my head is pounding and my eyes burn from staring at screens. Rurik orders food brought to the study and we eat in relative silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

Then Artur’s phone vibrates again.

He picks it up, glancing at the screen, and goes very still. His dark eyes narrow as he reads, his expression shifting from curiosity to something harder.

“What is it?” Eduard asks.

Artur doesn’t answer immediately. He reads the message twice, his jaw tightening. Then he looks up, his gaze locking onto mine.

“Encrypted message from one of my Baltic contacts,” he says quietly. “There’s a note and a photograph.”

My pulse quickens. “What does it say?”

Artur’s voice is flat as he reads aloud. “Tell Emma Moore I would like to meet her.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy and dangerous.

“Show me the photograph,” I demand, already moving toward him.

He turns the phone so I can see the screen.

The image is clear this time. Not blurry like the last one. A woman stands in what looks like an elegant hotel lobby, her honey-blonde hair falling straight down her back. She’s wearing a fitted dress, her posture perfect, her expression calm.

It’s Krystal.

And she’s looking directly at the camera.

26

ARTUR

I read the encrypted message for the third time, my thumb hovering over the screen as if staring at the words long enough will change what they say.

Tell Emma Moore I would like to meet her.

The photograph beneath the text shows Krystal Donnovan staring directly at the camera like she knows exactly who will see this image.

Rurik stands across the study near the window, his pale blue eyes fixed on something outside. Eduard leans against the desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, his gray eyes thoughtful. Emma is silent in her chair, a glazed look in her eyes. None of them has spoken since I showed them the message five minutes ago.

The silence stretches until I can’t take it anymore.

“It’s a trap,” I say flatly, setting the phone down on the desk between us.

“Obviously,” Rurik replies without turning around.

Eduard shifts his weight, his jaw tight. “Volkov doesn’t make careless moves. If he’s allowing Krystal to reach out, it’s because he wants something.”

“Assuming Volkov is the one who purchased her,” I add. “Or he wants to see how we react.” He’s testing our defenses and figuring out how much Emma means to us.

The thought makes something dark twist in my chest. Emma has become more than just the woman we bought at that auction. More than the FBI agent we’re keeping under guard. She’s ours in ways that go deeper than ownership, and the idea of Volkov, or anyone, using that against us makes my blood heat with fury.

Rurik finally turns from the window, his expression unreadable. “It’s not happening.” His tone is flat and final.

Emma stands, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “What do you mean it’s not happening?”