Page 66 of Marked By the Mob

I lean against the wall beside the bathroom entrance, my phone in my hand like I’m checking messages. To anyone passing by, I look casual, bored even. But every sense I have is focused on the conversation happening on the other side of that door.

Emma’s voice comes through first, concerned and urgent. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I need your help.” Krystal’s tone is breathless, almost frantic. “But I have to be careful. If Volkov suspects I’m trying to leave, he’ll kill me.”

My jaw tightens. Volkov doesn’t kill assets he’s spent a year training. He repurposes them, reshapes them, or sells them to someone who will. But he doesn’t waste valuable resources on executions unless they’ve become liabilities.

“I can protect you,” Emma says firmly. “The men I’m with, they have resources. We can get you out tonight if you want.”

“No.” Krystal’s response is immediate and sharp. “Not yet. I need to gather information first. Evidence that will keep me safe once I leave.”

I frown. That’s smart, calculated even. Too calculated for someone who’s supposedly terrified and desperate.

“What kind of evidence?” Emma asks.

There’s a pause, long enough that I wonder if Krystal is choosing her words carefully. Then she speaks again, her voice lower. “The bride auction isn’t just for the mob, Emma. There are powerful people involved. Politicians, defense contractors, and people with connections that reach into every level of government.”

My pulse quickens. If she’s telling the truth, this is bigger than any of us realized.

“How do you know that?” Emma’s voice is tight with tension.

“Because I’ve been to their parties. I’ve served drinks while they talked business. Volkov uses me to gather intelligence on them, and I’ve heard enough to know the auction is just one piece of a much larger operation.”

Fuck. If Volkov has been deploying Krystal in those circles, she’s seen things that could bring down entire networks. Which means she’s either incredibly valuable or incredibly dangerous, depending on who’s asking.

“What else did you hear?” Emma presses.

Another pause. Then Krystal’s voice drops even lower, barely audible through the door. “I think the entire thing was a setup just to get you.”

My whole body tenses as an icy wave of fear rushes through me. I straighten slightly, my hand tightening around my phone.

“What do you mean?” Emma’s voice is sharp now, all business.

“I don’t know all the details,” Krystal says quickly. “But I’ve heard your name mentioned multiple times. People talking about an FBI agent who was getting too close to somethingimportant. They wanted you captured, not killed. They wanted you in the auction.”

My mind races through the implications. Her betrayal is deeper than she thought. If Emma was the target from the beginning, then someone with serious resources orchestrated her capture. Someone who knew exactly where she’d be and when. Someone inside the Bureau.

“Why?” Emma demands. “Why would they want me specifically?”

“I don’t know.” Krystal sounds genuinely frustrated. “I only caught pieces of conversations. But whatever you were investigating, it scared them enough to go through a lot of trouble to stop you.”

“And then Rurik, Artur, and Eduard interfered,” Emma says quietly.

“Exactly.” Krystal’s voice softens slightly. “They weren’t supposed to buy you. Someone else was. Someone connected to the people running the auction.”

I process this information quickly, cataloging every detail. If Emma was meant for a specific buyer, our ten-million-dollar bid didn’t just save her. It fucked up someone’s carefully laid plans.

Which means we’ve made enemies we don’t even know about yet.

The conversation continues for a few more minutes, Krystal promising to gather more information and contact Emma again soon. Then I hear movement, footsteps approaching the door. I push away from the wall and move quickly down the hallway, disappearing around the corner before they emerge.

By the time Emma and Krystal return to the main club, I’m back in the VIP section with Rurik and Artur, my expression carefully neutral. Emma’s face is flushed with excitement and determination, her gray-green eyes bright. Krystal says something to her quietly then disappears back into the crowd with her bodyguards.

“We need to leave,” I say to Rurik.

He doesn’t question me. Within minutes, we’re in the SUV heading back to the estate, Emma sandwiched between Artur and me in the back seat. She’s practically vibrating with energy, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“Krystal wants out,” she says the moment the doors close. “She’s gathering evidence against Volkov, but she needs help.”