Page 36 of Used Bratva Bride

I smirk. James Spade finally decided to act, then? Pathetic. Sending one man, a disposable spy, as if that would be enough to take her back.

“Name,” I demand.

The man doesn’t answer.

Ivan steps forward, his knife glinting under the dim light. He drags the flat of the blade along the spy’s throat, just enough for him to feel the cold steel against his skin.

My smile doesn’t waver. “I’ll ask once more. Name.”

The man grits his teeth. “Vince.”

Vince. Meaningless. Forgettable. A pawn, nothing more.

“How long have you been watching my house, hmm?”

Silence.

I nod at Ivan.

Without hesitation, Ivan grabs the man’s hand and slams it onto the table. The room tenses. The man thrashes, but my men hold him steady. His breathing sharpens, sweat gathering at his temples.

I watch, my expression blank, as Ivan lifts the knife.

“No—”

The blade slices down.

A sickening, wet noise fills the air as a finger drops onto the concrete floor.

The man’s scream tears through the room, raw and ragged. He gasps, writhing against his restraints, but my men keep him in place.

I crouch in front of him, resting my elbows on my knees as I study him.

“You’ve been sent to retrieve Julie,” I say, as if it’s fact.

His bloodied hand trembles. His breathing is uneven, lips shaking from the shock.

I smile, leaning in. “Do you think James Spade will send more men for her?”

His pain-clouded eyes flick up to mine.

I already know the answer. James Spade doesn’t care about Julie, but hurting his family is considered a personal slight. If he did, she wouldn’t have been here this long. I also know power when I see it, and James will care—if I make him.

I tilt my head, feigning curiosity. “Why would your boss send you alone, Vince? Did he think you could just walk in and take her back? Or….” My smile deepens, dark amusement curling in my voice. “Did he send you knowing you’d fail?”

A flicker of something—doubt—crosses Vince’s expression.

I let the silence stretch, watching him squirm, watching the realization settle.

Then, slowly, I stand. The entire room tenses. “Tell your boss,” I say, voice calm, collected, “that his daughter is no longer his concern.”

The man barely lifts his head. “What?”

I smirk. “Tell him that she belongs to me now.”

Ivan’s brow furrows slightly, but he says nothing. The guards shift, uncertain, but I ignore them.

I step closer, dropping my voice lower. “Tell him I intend to marry her.”

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