Page 34 of The Bratva’s Captive Flame

It's nothing I didn't already know. But hearing it land from a second source, an outside source with no reason to flatter my theory, confirms it to me. Now I know I have a mole, and the hope that this was some misunderstanding is gone. Whoever did this did it on purpose and they deserve to be punished.

"Names," I say.

"Well, I don't have anything concrete, but the names Devlin and Igor have surfaced… Mean anything to you?"

Those men are so low-level, there's no way they had prior knowledge of that raid, but it doesn't mean they weren’t tipped off by someone higher up. "You’re certain?" I ask, not questioning his intel but knowing this isn't the end.

He spreads his hands. "Could be a third I haven't smoked out. That's why I need a few days."

So if he has names of lower level men involved, this means it's a bigger problem than I thought. It's not one man conspiring against us, it's men organizing to potentially overthrow us—several of them. Seb isn’t going to like this at all.

"Dig," I tell him. "And do it quietly. You bring whatever you find to me and to no one else. Understood?"

"Of course." He pushes off the wall, sensing the meeting closing, the apology apparently behind us. "Anything else, Boss?" My mind flashes to the way he was touching Isabela and I almost lose it again. My God, I want to hurt him.

I walk around the desk slowly and stop near him, making sure he understands my hard glare. "One thing," I growl. "You put your hands on her again—for any reason—and I take the hand. And you'll have a long time to think about it because I'll have the doctor keep you alive so I can do the same thing a week later with the other hand." I hold his gaze. "And if your mouth says one more word to her like the ones I'm sure it said this morning, I take the tongue after it."

"Demin—"

"Do we understand each other?"

"We understand each other." He nods respectfully, his smile gone now, but there's still no fear in his eyes. "It won't come up again. You have my word."

He lets himself out, and I stand there glaring at the closed door.

I don't know if Isabela instigated that or not, but judging by the way she ran off when I walked up, I know she wasn't happy with my catching it. If she thinks she can throw her body at one of my guards to have them cut her and her father loose, she's got another thing coming. And if he was just harassing her, she might very well need to talk to me about this.

I want to get to the bottom of what the actual fuck Sergei thought he was doing because if it happens again, I will kill him myself. Mole or not, I will not tolerate the disrespect. She is mine, and I want my things to be mine alone.

19

ISABELA

When Demin's men drag me back to his room after my visit with my father, I head straight for the shower to wash this disgusting feeling of shame off my body. My hands shake as I peel the layers of clothing off and toe off my shoes. Sergei's touch is seared into my skin. I need it off me. I need to feel clean again.

I turn the water up hotter than I can stand and I scrub. My arms, my wrist, the side of my waist where Sergei's arm wrapped around me, everywhere his hands touched and a lot of places they didn't. I scrub until my skin goes pink and then red, and it doesn't help, not even when I'm tender and my skin feels scraped raw. I can still feel the ghost of his fingers on my wrist. I can still hear his disgusting laugh, like he took pleasure in making my skin crawl.

I press my forehead to the tile and let the water run over the back of my neck. Papa asked what happened, but how could I tell him? It would only prove to him that he's right and that we shouldn’t be here. Or maybe things like this are supposed to prove to me that he's right—that I should be scared of Demin and his family, not accepting.

Maybe I’m being naive by thinking that Demin taking ownership of me is a good feeling. Maybe I've been brainwashed or something, but I do feel safe in his arms now. Even if I don't want to.

But I came here to escape men like Sergei. That's the part I can't get around. I wanted to get my father away from Solano's people, and I delivered us both somewhere worse—or at least since Sergei has shown up. The Bratva isn't the safer choice. They're the same animal in better suits.

The water's gone lukewarm by the time I make myself shut it off. I dry off and pull on the oversized shirt, and I'm standing at the sink with my wet hair dripping on my shoulders when I hear the bedroom door open.

I know it's Demin before he says anything. As long as I've been in this house, I've memorized how he walks and moves right down to being able to determine his moods just from his footsteps.

"Isabela."

I walk to the bathroom doorway and lean on the doorjamb. My whole body is strung as tight as a piano string. I don't know how he's going to react to whatever he saw, but what I need is comfort. I take a few steps toward him but wonder if that's a good idea.

Demin's already crossing the room toward me, and he looks angry, maybe a little jealous. That look in his eyes when he locked his gaze on mine as Sergei backed away was nothing short of possessive. He really believes he owns me, so to him that probably wasn't just a man propositioning me. No doubt, he probably believes I wanted it or that I provoked it.

He doesn't stop at a polite distance, either. He crowds straight into my space, backing me up a step until my shoulders find the wall beside the door, and he lifts a hand and tilts my chin up so I have nowhere to look but at him.

"Tell me what happened," he growls. "All of it. Every word he said to you."

My throat's tight. His thumb is warm on my jaw. I swallow hard and look him in the eye feeling terrified of his reaction. He could take this the wrong way, and then what? What Sergei wanted to do to me could look like child's play compared to what this man would do. He's the leader here, with no one to step in and stop him.