The room looks exactly the same. Concrete walls and floor. A single metal chair bolted to the ground. Harsh fluorescent lights overhead. It's cold down here, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill.
Matvey is already there with the wounded man. I watch as he forces him into the chair, the same chair I'd occupied not long ago. The man groans as Matvey binds his wrists and ankles with zip ties, pulling them tight enough that the plastic cuts into his skin.
"Mariya." Andrey's voice pulls my attention back to him. "You don't have to stay for this."
I look at him, at the concern in his blue eyes, and shake my head. "I want to know why they came after me."
He studies my face for a long moment, then nods. "Stay behind me."
The interrogation is brutal.
Matvey starts with questions, his voice flat and emotionless. Who sent you? Why are you here? What do you want with Mariya?
The man refuses to answer, spitting blood on the floor instead. So Matvey hits him. A solid punch to the ribs that makes the man cry out. Then another. And another.
I force myself to watch, even though my stomach is turning. This is the world I've married into. This is what the Bratva does. Violence and blood and pain, all in the name of information and power.
Andrey stands beside me, his body tense, his hands clenched into fists. I can feel the rage radiating off him, barely contained. He wants to be the one doing the hitting, wants to make this man pay for daring to come after me.
After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, the man finally breaks.
"New family," he gasps, blood dripping from his mouth. "Just moved here from Russia."
Andrey doesn't look surprised. If anything, he looks grimmer. "The attack on the docks was a distraction."
It's not a question, but the man nods anyway. "Had to get you away from the estate. Away from her."
"Why?" Andrey takes a step forward, and the man flinches. "What do you want with my wife?"
"The bounty." The words come out slurred, painful. "We were just after the bounty."
My blood runs cold.Bounty? What bounty?
Andrey's jaw tightens. "How much?"
The man looks up at him, and despite the pain, despite the blood, he smiles. It's a terrible smile, full of malice and satisfaction.
"A million dollars," he says. "There's a million-dollar bounty on your wife. To capture her alive."
28
ANDREY
Iwatch Matvey put a bullet in the prisoner's head, the sound echoing through the concrete room like a death knell. The man slumps forward in the chair, blood pooling beneath him, and I feel nothing. No satisfaction. No relief. Just cold, burning fury that threatens to consume me from the inside out.
Mariya, thankfully, went to our room. She shouldn't witness this. She has enough going on without seeing even more death.
A million-dollar bounty. On my wife. On a Pakhan’s wife.
The disrespect is staggering. The audacity of it makes my blood boil. Marrying Mariya was supposed to protect her. It was supposed to send a clear message to every family from here to Moscow that she's under my protection. That touching her means war.
But someone doesn't care. Someone put a price on her head anyway.
"Clean this up," I tell Matvey, my voice rough. "Then find out everything you can about this new family. Where they're staying,who they're working with, how many men they have. I want to know what they had for breakfast this morning."
Matvey nods once, his dark eyes reflecting the same rage I'm feeling. "Done."
I leave the interrogation room and head upstairs, my boots heavy on the concrete steps. My mind races through possibilities, through strategies. Twice in one day, they've hit me.Twice. The docks and now my own fucking property. My home. The one place that should be completely secure.
