Page 94 of Marked By the Mob

My gaze shifts back to the window where, even from here, I can see the cold calculation in Volkov’s pale gray eyes as he looks toward the house. He’s dressed impeccably in a dark suit, his posture relaxed and confident. Like he has no doubt he’ll get what he came for.

Krystal makes a small, frightened sound beside me.

Eduard’s gaze never leaves her face. “What’s it going to be, Krystal? Do you go with Volkov or do you stay?”

39

EDUARD

I watch Krystal’s face as she struggles with the decision, her hazel eyes darting between Emma and the windows where Volkov can be seen walking up the sidewalk. The silence stretches, heavy with tension. Emma stands beside her friend, hope written clearly across her features. Having Krystal with her and away from Volkov means a lot to her. But it’s Krystal’s decision.

And I can see the appreciation in Emma’s gray-green eyes when she looks at me. She understands what I’m offering Krystal. The same choice we gave her. The freedom to decide her own future instead of having it dictated by men who think they own her.

Krystal’s breathing is shallow, her delicate frame trembling. Minutes tick by, each one feeling like an hour. Finally, she nods slowly, her honey-blonde hair falling forward to partially hide her face.

“I want to stay,” she whispers. Then louder, stronger. “I want to stay with you.”

Relief floods Emma’s expression and she pulls Krystal into a careful hug. I exchange glances with Rurik and Artur. We all know this decision just made our lives significantly more complicated. Volkov doesn’t give up his assets easily—and Krystal has been his for a year.

“Let’s go talk to him,” Rurik says, his pale blue eyes cold.

We move toward the front entrance, Emma and Krystal following close behind. The guards open the doors and we step out into the afternoon sunlight. Volkov stands at the bottom of the steps, his tall frame relaxed, his pale gray eyes assessing. Four bodyguards flank him, their hands resting near concealed weapons.

“Gentlemen,” Volkov says, his voice smooth and controlled. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. Krystal belongs to me. I’m here to retrieve what’s mine.”

“She’s not yours anymore,” Rurik says flatly. “She’s chosen to stay here.”

Volkov’s gaze shifts to Krystal, something dangerous flickering in his expression. “Is that true, Krystal? You’re choosing to abandon everything I’ve given you?”

Krystal steps forward, and I’m impressed by the steadiness in her voice when she speaks. “I’m choosing freedom. I’m staying with Emma.”

For a long moment, Volkov just stares at her. Then his attention shifts to Emma, and I see exactly what he’s thinking. His pale gray eyes travel over her face, her body, but it’s not sexual interest I see there. It’s calculation and assessment.

He wants Emma for what she knows. For the FBI training and intelligence she could provide. For the access she represents to federal systems and investigative techniques. Emma would be worth more to him than a dozen women like Krystal.

“Perhaps we can negotiate,” Volkov says, his gaze still locked on Emma. “I’m willing to purchase the FBI agent. Name your price.”

Anger flares hot in my chest, but before I can respond Emma steps forward. Her gray-green eyes blaze with fury as she faces down one of the most dangerous men in the Bratva without flinching.

“There’s no way in hell you’ll get your filthy hands on me,” she says, her voice sharp as a blade.

Volkov’s expression hardens, the civilized mask slipping just enough to reveal the ruthless predator underneath. “Everything has a price, Agent Moore. You’ll learn that eventually.”

“The only thing I’m learning,” Emma says, stepping closer, “is that men like you think you can buy and sell people like property. But I’m not property. And neither is Krystal.”

The tension thickens, dangerous and volatile. Volkov’s bodyguards shift their weight, hands moving toward weapons. Rurik, Artur, and I respond automatically, our own hands going to the guns we carry. For a heartbeat, I think violence is inevitable.

Then Volkov smiles, cold and humorless. “We’ll see, Agent Moore. We’ll see.”

He turns and walks back to his SUV with controlled grace, his bodyguards following. Within seconds, the vehicles are pulling away from the estate, disappearing down the tree-lined drive.

I exhale slowly, my hand still resting on my weapon. That went better than expected, but the look on Volkov’s face as he left tells me we haven’t heard the last of this. He’s not the type to accept defeat gracefully.

Emma turns to face us, her chest heaving with barely controlled adrenaline. “That bastard actually tried to buy me. Right in front of you.”

“He’s testing boundaries,” Rurik says, his jaw tight. “Seeing how far he can push before we push back.”

“Well, he got his answer,” Emma mutters.