Page 45 of Forced Innocent Bratva Bride

The enemies moved with precision, taking cover behind crates and pillars, but my men were smarter, faster, stronger, and better skilled.

“De la Cruz!” I bellowed, my voice dripping with anger. My gaze swept across the warehouse, searching for him. “Where are you?” My brows furrowed as I spotted him hunched behind a stack of boxes like the coward that he was.

He raised his head and locked eyes with me, his throat wobbling as he swallowed, fear etched in his gaze.

I lunged at him, lifting him up by the collar as I dragged him out of his hiding place and slammed his back against the wall.

He trembled at my fury, raising his hands in surrender, but I was unforgiving. My fingers clenched into fists and drilled his face with powerful punches.

Each strike dented his head into the wall, his blood spluttering on my face.

My men had taken control of his warehouse, holding the remainder of his goonies at gunpoint.

His face was battered, disfigured from all that hammering, and his broken nose wouldn't stop bleeding.

“You think you can threaten me and live, huh?” I spat, my fists relentlessly slamming into his face. “How dare you go after my wife!” I lifted him into the air and flung him into a nearby table.

The furniture crushed under his weight, and he groaned, wheezing, struggling to catch his breath. I yanked up a piece of the broken wood and sank the pointy edge into his thigh.

The stab was delivered with a deadly precision that sent the edge poking out on the other side.

His body trembled, hands reflexively flying to his wound. His wail echoed through the warehouse.

“Where is she?!” I thundered, my scowl deepening as I pushed the wood further into his thigh, dangerously twisting it, his flesh tearing.

“Where is who?!” he cried out, his legs shuddering, face contorted in agony.

I grabbed another piece of wood off the floor and leaned forward, my voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Start talking, or this is going through your heart.” I pressed the pointy edge against his chest, deep enough to cut through his shirt and prick his skin.

“I don't know what you're talking about, I swear!” he gasped, hands held up in front of him. He was pleading with his eyes.

I squinted, restraining myself from running him through with that piece shaped like a knife. Honesty flickered in his gaze.

I'd played this game long enough to know when someone was lying or when they were telling the truth. Right now, De la Cruz was not lying when he said he had no idea what I was talking about.

Men like him would do anything to save their skin in a life-or-death situation like this. But he wasn't lying.

However, I needed confirmation.

“You threatened me, and not long after, my wife goes missing. Do you see how this looks?” I glared into his teary eyes, disgusted by how pathetic he was.

“I swear to God, Alexei, I had no hand in your wife's disappearance!” he said, his tone dripping with sincerity. “Yes, I did threaten you, but I'd never actually go after you. I might be stupid, but I'm notthatstupid,” he added, his eyes wide with terror.

The air was thick with tension as I tightened my grip around the piece in my hand, my chest heaving slowly. His eyes shifted across my face and to the weapon, his breath lodged in his throat.

I could smell his fear as he realized that his life was in my hands— that whether or not he would still be alive by the end of the night was dependent on my decision.

It was pointless killing him; he was just an empty can making loud noises.

I loosened my grip around the piece and fell to the floor. De la Cruz let out a heavy sigh of relief, and I rose to my feet.

“Don't ever cross my path again,” I warned him, my voice firm and expression stoic. “You might not be so lucky next time.”

His response was a rapid nod, hands hovering over the piece of wood stuck in his leg.

Lorena wasn’t with De la Cruz. Where was she then?

I shifted my gaze across Lev and Gordey, my blood boiling at the fact that I had no idea where she was.

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