Page 74 of Marked By the Mob

I continue down the stairs, my boots clicking against marble floors. That’s the logical reason to stay. The strategic choice. But there’s another reason I don’t want to examine too closely.

I don’t want to leave my men.

The thought surfaces before I can stop it, uncomfortable and undeniable. Rurik, Eduard, and Artur have become more than my captors. In some odd way, they’ve become my family. They protect me, take care of me, listen to me when I talk. They are helping me track down the mole, and right now they are risking their very lives to protect me.

I shake my head and push through the front entrance before I can change my mind. The afternoon air is cool against my skin as I cross the courtyard toward the main gates. A guard stationed near the entrance straightens when he sees me approaching.

“I’m going out,” I say, keeping my voice casual.

He hesitates, clearly uncertain. “The bosses didn’t mention you’d be leaving today.”

“They know,” I lie smoothly. “I’m meeting someone in the city. I’ll be back before dinner.”

The guard studies my face for a long moment, then nods and opens the pedestrian gate beside the main vehicle entrance. I slip through before he can reconsider, my heart pounding as I walk down the tree-lined drive toward the street beyond.

The coffee shop Krystal mentioned is about two miles away. I flag down a taxi and give the driver the address, settling into the back seat as the estate disappears behind us. I pay for the trip with cash I swiped from Rurik’s desk.

The coffee shop is small and tucked between a bookstore and a dry cleaner, the kind of place that caters to neighborhood regulars rather than tourists. I spot Krystal immediately through the front window, seated at a corner table with her back to the wall. Her blonde hair is half up half down, and she’s wearing a cream-colored sweater that makes her look soft and approachable.

I push through the door and her hazel eyes find mine immediately. Relief flashes across her face, followed quickly by something that might be fear.

I cross to her table and sit down without ordering anything. “You said it was urgent.”

“It is.” Krystal’s hands wrap around her coffee cup, her fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“You’re my best friend,” I say quietly. “Of course I came.”

Her expression shifts, something painful flickering in her eyes. “I don’t know if I deserve that title anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

Krystal takes a slow breath, her gaze dropping to the table. “I need to tell you about the past year. About what Volkov did to me. What he turned me into.”

I lean forward, my attention sharpening. “I’m listening.”

She starts talking, her voice low and controlled. She describes the night she was taken from that party, how she woke up in an unfamiliar room with no idea where she was or what had happened. Volkov appeared the next morning, calm and polite, explaining that she now belonged to him.

“He didn’t hurt me,” Krystal says, her fingers tightening around the cup. “Not physically. He never hit me or threatened violence. Everything he did was psychological.”

She explains how Volkov spent months teaching her to navigate elite social circles. How to dress, the right way to speak, and how to read a room and identify the most powerful person in it. He brought in tutors who taught her languages, etiquette, and the subtle art of gathering information without appearing to ask questions.

“He was turning me into someone new,” Krystal says, her voice hollow. “Someone who could move through his world without raising suspicion. Someone useful.”

My chest tightens as I listen. Volkov didn’t just kidnap her. He systematically broke down who she was and rebuilt her into a tool he could deploy. Just as the guys had warned me he would likely do.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I ask gently.

Krystal’s gaze lifts to meet mine. “Because I want you to understand that I’m not the same person you knew. I’ve learnedto play the game, Emma. I’ve learned to smile and nod and pretend I’m exactly what Volkov wants me to be. But underneath all of it, I just want my life back.”

“Then let me help you,” I say immediately. “The men I’m with have resources. We can get you out.”

“It’s not that simple.” Krystal shakes her head. “Volkov has eyes everywhere. If I disappear, he’ll know. And he’ll come after everyone connected to me. Including you.”

Before I can respond, she continues, her voice dropping even lower. “There’s something else you need to know. About the auction.”

My pulse quickens. “What about it?”

“It’s not just about selling women,” Krystal says carefully. “The auction functions as leverage exchange between the mafia and certain federal agencies. Women are purchased and trained to be placed strategically. They gather secrets, build relationships with targets, and report back to whoever owns them.”