Page 75 of Marked By the Mob

The implications crash over me like ice water. “You’re saying the auction is an intelligence operation?”

“Partly.” Krystal’s fingers drum against the table. “Not all the women are used that way. Some are just sold for profit or personal use. But the high-value targets, the ones with specific skills or connections, they’re different. They’re assets.”

My mind races through everything I’ve learned over the past few weeks. The shell companies connected to the auction. The federal money flowing through Baltic Logistics. The way my investigation was shut down so quickly after I disappeared.

“I was supposed to be one of those assets,” I say slowly.

Krystal nods. “Volkov wanted you. He’d been tracking your investigation for months, watching you get closer to the auction network. When you went undercover, he saw an opportunity. An FBI agent with your training and access would be incredibly valuable if she could be turned.”

“But Rurik, Eduard, and Artur bought me first.”

“Exactly.” Krystal’s expression tightens. “You weren’t supposed to go to them. Volkov had arranged for one of his proxies to win the bidding. But your men threw ten million dollars on the table and fucked up his entire plan.”

The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. The other Bratva bosses demanding I be shared among the families. The pressure on Rurik, Eduard, and Artur to give me up. It’s not just about resources or tradition.

It’s Volkov.

“He’s behind the other bosses,” I say, my voice tight. “He’s the one pushing them to demand access to me.”

Krystal doesn’t deny it. “Volkov doesn’t give up on assets he wants. If he can’t own you directly, he’ll find another way to control you.”

I lean back in my chair, my hands curling into fists under the table. Everything I’ve been through, every betrayal and manipulation, leads back to one man. Aleksander Volkov orchestrated my capture, my sale, and now he’s trying to pry me away from the only people who’ve protected me.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask quietly. “If Volkov finds out you warned me, he’ll kill you.”

Krystal’s hazel eyes fill with something that looks like genuine fear. “That’s the problem, Emma. He’s already suspicious.”

My stomach drops. “What do you mean?”

“He’s been watching me more closely lately. Asking questions about where I go and who I talk to. He knows we met at the club, and he knows I reached out to you again.” Krystal’s voice shakes slightly. “He’s testing me. Trying to figure out if I’m really loyal to him or if I’m playing my own game.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I was trying to rebuild our friendship. That I wanted to stay connected to you because you might be useful someday.” She swallows hard. “He believed me. But now he’s demanding I prove it.”

The air between us grows heavy with unspoken implications. “Prove it how?”

Krystal’s hands tremble as she sets down her coffee cup. “He wants me to use our friendship to gather intelligence on Rurik, Eduard, and Artur. Their operations, weaknesses, and their plans. Everything.”

33

ARTUR

The panic hits me like a fist to the gut the moment we confirm Emma isn’t anywhere in the estate.

I stand in the center of the bedroom we share, my hands curling into fists at my sides as I force myself to breathe. The laptop sits open on the desk where she left it, the screen dark. Her jacket is gone. Her boots are missing from the closet. And the bed is cold, untouched since we left for the meeting hours ago.

“Where the fuck is she?” I say, my voice tight.

Eduard moves through the suite methodically, checking the bathroom, the sitting area, every corner like she might be hiding somewhere we haven’t looked. His gray eyes are hard, his jaw set in that way that means he’s controlling his temper through sheer force of will.

Rurik stands near the window, his phone pressed to his ear as he barks orders in Russian to the head of security. His pale blue eyes are cold and focused, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his free hand curls into a fist against his thigh.

We’re all thinking the same thing. Where the hell did she go?

“The guards at the main gate say she left around two-thirty,” Rurik says, ending the call. “She told them she was meeting someone in the city and would be back before dinner.”

My pulse spikes. “And they just let her walk out?”