Emma
The silence that follows Rurik’s offer stretches between us like a taut wire. I stare at him, my heart hammering against my ribs as his words echo in my mind.
The choice is yours.
Something shifts in my chest, warm and terrifying.
My breath catches, and I can’t seem to pull enough air into my lungs.
The three of them watch me with varying expressions.
Rurik’s pale blue eyes are steady and patient, like he’s prepared to wait however long it takes for my answer.
Eduard’s gray gaze is softer, almost hopeful.
Artur leans against the doorframe, his dark eyes unreadable for once, the usual cocky grin nowhere to be found.
They’re giving me a choice. After everything, after buying me at an auction and keeping me here, they’re actually letting me decide whether to stay or go.
I try to speak, but my throat feels tight, like there’s a lump stuck there that won’t budge. I swallow hard and manage a nod instead. It’s all I can give them right now. “I’ll stay.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
Rurik’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes. Relief, maybe. Or satisfaction. Eduard’s shoulders relax slightly, and Artur’s lips curve into the barest hint of a smile.
“Good,” Rurik says quietly. “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.”
The weight of the moment presses down on me and I need space to breathe. To think. To process what just happened and what it means. What I just committed myself to.
“I should check on Krystal,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
Eduard nods and steps aside to let me pass. “We’ll be downstairs if you need us.”
I move past them into the hallway, acutely aware of their eyes following me. My shoulder throbs where the bullet grazed me, the bandage tight beneath my sweater. The pain is manageable, a dull ache that reminds me how close I came to dying today.
Someone shot at me. At us. You’d think I’d be more used to it, being an FBI agent. But I don’t think anyone ever gets used to it. Even Artur, Rurik, and Eduard, as many times as they’ve been shot at—and the ones doing the shooting—it still takes its toll on them.
Krystal’s room is at the end of the hallway, one of the guest suites the men prepared when they brought her here. I knock softly before fitting the key in the lock that Eduard gave me and pushing the door open.
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her honey-blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders. She looks up when I enter, her expression a mixture of relief and fear, and her eyes are red-rimmed.
“Emma.” She stands quickly, crossing the room to pull me into a careful hug. “Oh my god, I was so scared. When you went down, I thought…”
“I’m okay,” I assure her, returning the embrace. “It’s just a graze. The bullet barely touched me.”
She pulls back, her hands gripping my arms as she studies my face. “Who would do that? Who would shoot at you in broad daylight?”
A grimace pulls at my mouth. She didn’t grab the wounded area, but it still sent a shockwave of her. She jerks her hands away, her eyes widening. “I don’t know.” I move to sit on the bed, and she joins me. “But I’m going to find out.”
Krystal wraps her arms around herself, her delicate frame trembling slightly. “I need to go back to Volkov.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “What? No. Krystal, you’re safe here.”
“Am I?” Her voice rises, panic threading through it. “Volkov is going to know I was brought here. He’s going to think I betrayed him. Do you have any idea what he’ll do to me?”
“He can’t touch you here,” I say firmly. “My guys won’t let him.”
She raises an eyebrow at the way I verbally claimed Rurik, Artur, and Eduard, but she doesn’t ask me about it.
“You don’t understand.” Krystal stands and starts pacing, her movements agitated. “Volkov doesn’t just kill people who betray him. He makes examples of them. He destroys everything they care about first.”
I watch her move across the room, my chest tight with guilt and frustration. I should have found her sooner. It shouldn’t have taken a year of searching and then being sold in a bride auction to find and rescue her.
“I want to stay,” she says suddenly, stopping near the window. “God, Emma, I want out of that life so badly. But I’m terrified of what he’ll do if I don’t go back.”
“Then stay,” I say, standing to face her. “We’ll protect you. All of us.”
Krystal’s laugh is bitter. “You can’t protect me from Volkov. No one can.”
“You’d be surprised what three Bratva bosses can do when they’re motivated.” I move closer, my voice softening. “Please, Krystal. Don’t go back to him.”
She turns to look at me, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to fight him.”
“You are.” I take her hands in mine, squeezing gently. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You survived a year with him. You learned to play his game. Now it’s time to stop playing.”
For a long moment, she just stares at me. Then she nods slowly, wiping at her tears. “Okay. I’ll stay. For now.”
Relief floods through me and I pull her into another hug. “Thank you.”
We settle back onto the bed, the conversation shifting to safer ground. Or at least, what should be safer ground. But nothing about this situation is safe anymore.
“The bride auction,” I say carefully. “You said it connects to federal agencies. How deep does that go?”
Krystal’s expression darkens. “Deeper than you want to believe. The auction isn’t just about selling women, Emma. It’s about leverage, information, and control.”
“How, exactly?”
She takes a breath, her fingers twisting together in her lap.
“Volkov uses the women he acquires as assets. He trains them, educates them, and places them in strategic positions. Some become companions to politicians. Others work in corporate settings where they can gather intelligence. A few, like me, are kept close to gather information on his rivals.”
My stomach turns. “And the FBI?”
“There are people inside the Bureau who know about the auction. Who use it.” Krystal’s voice drops to barely above a whisper. “They feed information to the organizers. They protect certain buyers. They make sure investigations go nowhere.”
The words confirm what I’ve been afraid to admit. The mole isn’t just someone who sold me out. They’re part of a larger network that’s been operating for years.
“Langford,” I say quietly.
Krystal’s eyes widen. “You think it’s him?”
“I don’t want to.” The admission hurts. “But the evidence keeps pointing in his direction. His brother-in-law’s security firm launders auction money. He had the clearance to access my files. He approved my operation, knowing it would fail.”
“But he’s been like a father to you,” Krystal says, her voice gentle. “I can’t believe he would do that. He’s always seemed to care so much for you.’
“I know.” My throat tightens again. “That’s what makes this so hard. Langford is the closest thing to family I have left. If he’s the one who betrayed me…”
I can’t finish the sentence. The thought is too painful.
Krystal reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Maybe there’s another explanation. Maybe someone is setting him up.”
“Maybe.” But I don’t believe it. Not anymore. The pieces fit too well. The timeline makes too much sense. And the message he sent offering to negotiate my return wasn’t about rescuing me. It was about containing the damage I could do to his operation.
“What are you going to do?” Krystal asks.
“Find proof.” I stand, my resolve hardening. “I’m going to dig until I have enough evidence to bury whoever’s responsible. Even if it’s Langford.”
Krystal stands too, her hazel eyes searching mine. “And then what? You turn him in? Go back to the FBI?”
The question stops me cold. A week ago, the answer would have been obvious. Of course I’d go back. The Bureau is my life, my purpose. It’s everything I’ve worked for. All I know. Or, at least, all I used to know before being bought at an auction and falling for three very dangerous men.
But now?
Now I’m not sure what I want anymore.
Before I can answer, a knock sounds at the door. Eduard’s voice comes through, calm but serious. “Emma, Krystal. We need you downstairs.”
I exchange glances with Krystal, my pulse quickening. Something’s wrong. I can hear it in Eduard’s tone.
We follow him down the hallway and stairs to the main foyer. Rurik and Artur are already there, their expressions hard. Through the tall windows, I can see several black SUVs parked in the circular drive.
My stomach drops.
Eduard turns to face us, his gray eyes locked on Krystal. “Volkov is here.”
Krystal goes pale, her hand gripping my arm hard enough to bruise. “No. No, he can’t be.”
“He’s demanding to see you,” Rurik says, his voice flat. “He says you were taken against your will and he’s here to retrieve his property.”
The word makes my blood boil. Property. Like Krystal is something he owns.
“You don’t have to go,” I say quickly, turning to face her. “You can stay here. They’ll protect you. Remember, you just said you wanted to stay.”
Eduard steps closer, his attention focused entirely on Krystal. “The choice is yours. You can go with Volkov, or you can choose to stay with us.”
Krystal’s breathing quickens, her eyes darting between us and the windows where Volkov’s vehicles wait.
I watch him step out of the car with several of his bodyguards.
There’s not much time. Krystal’s whole body trembles, and I can see the war playing out across her face.
Fear of what Volkov will do if she refuses him.
Hope that maybe, finally, she can be free.
“I…” Her voice breaks. “I don’t know.”
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?”