Page 36 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

“You better. I’m counting on you, Yaro.”

That warning never left his words, and that added pressure seemed to stack on my shoulders. I could only push my luck so far before my cousins would inevitably come down on me. I didn’t need them questioning my authority or dropping me in the ranks.

I worked too hard to get to where I was, and I didn’t need that threat all because of a bitter alcoholic with nothing better to do.

“I won’t let you down.”

Dimitri let go of a deep breath and then ended the call. Looking out at the property as our downed men were recovered and taken away wrapped in sheets and the rest of the scene was cleaned up, I reeled myself in.

I had to. I needed to tap into the side of me that my cousins needed.

The one that didn’t mind spilling some blood for the sake of the family. No matter where they fell in the order of our men if they worked for us, then they were family by extension. If they were loyal to us and did as we required, then they deserved just as much respect as my intimate family members.

If beating answers out of a man could scratch the surface of finding justice for the men we lost that day, then so be it.

Sliding my phone back in my pocket, I turned and zeroed in on the captive.

Elias pulled back with a wild look in his eyes, knuckles already beginning to bruise. The hostage’s right cheek was puffy and split, and he was heaving out those shallow breaths.

“He’s ready for you,” he mumbled, wiping his mouth with a forearm.

Nodding once, I motioned toward the man. “Remove the gag.”

One of ours reached over and yanked on the soiled rag until the captive was able to suck in a deep breath. Even if Elias had only roughed him up a bit, he was already worn down considerably, regardless of how hardened he tried to seem.

“Make this easy for me, and I won’t prolong your suffering,” I advised him, examining him from a step back.

His mouth fixed into a scowl. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“That’s a shame,” I mumbled, flexing as I pulled my gloves tighter. “I was looking forward to this chat.”

In the blink of an eye, I swung at him. Clipping his right side, he recoiled from the impact, slumping against our men who held him. They forced him back on his feet. I clenched my hand against the slight sting in my knuckles.

“But if this is the sort of conversation you’ll have with me, then I don’t mind.”

I hit him again and again until he was spitting out blood. It trickled down his chin as he struggled to swallow against it. Pausing to catch my breath, I stepped back and admired my handiwork.

Puffy and bruised like an apple, the man looked like he had been jumped in a parking lot somewhere. His chest heaved as his body went into shock, but he still hadn’t uttered a word.

“Come on, now,” I began, letting those torture techniques I studied move to the front of my mind. “I just want a few simple answers. If you don’t want to be put down here and now, you’ll tell me who you work for and how they learned about the trade. Got it?”

But the man looked at me with disgust and spat at a mouthful of blood against the concrete floor. “Fuck you.”

Bristling at that arrogance, I sucker-punched him square in the face with a sickening crunch of his nose. His head swung back with a grunt, caught off-guard by the impact.

“Who do you work for?” I yelled at him, my voice returning to me in a sharp echo.

“I won’t…I won’t tell you,” He managed just above a whisper.

Realizing I’d have to step it up, I shrugged and said over my shoulder to Elias, “We have a crowbar sitting around somewhere, right?”

Glancing back at the hostage, I noticed that fear sparked within his eyes. The first crack in his resolve.

“As far as I’m aware, a dead man doesn’t need his kneecaps,” I mumbled.

Before Elias could retrieve something for me to use on him, the man faltered.

“Wait! No, please,” he said, giving in at least. He dropped his head in shame. “No more.”

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