Page 86 of Deadly Vows

I laugh, kneeling in front of her as I pull out Elise’s ring. It takes all but a few seconds for tears to form in the woman’s eyes.

I quietly pull out my gun, gently placing it against her cheek.

“Shh,” I murmur.

“What is your job here?” I ask.

Her eyes widen, and her sobs begin again as she shakes her head.

“Please, I only do as I am told, I did not know—”

I release an irritated breath, shifting my weapon to the nearest worker. Screams erupt as I shoot the nearest worker in the head. Her body falls next to us with a heavy thud, and the screams heighten as I aim my weapon back at Sophia.

“I won’t ask again,” I say.

“I…get women ready…f-f-for auction,” she stammers.

I press the gun against her jaw, keeping my tone level as I speak.

“Get women ready…Come on now, Sophia, you need to be a little more specific than that,” I say.

She squeezes her eyes shut as she realizes I know exactly who she is.

“I get them primped. I choose what they will be sold in, how they will be styled, and if they go to the public or private auctions,” she sobs.

“So what you’re saying is, you primped my wife to be sold?” I ask.

She bursts into tears again, shaking her head. “Please, I had no idea she was your wife!”

I know she’s lying.

“Who bought her?” I ask.

She shakes her head, claiming she doesn’t know, and I press my weapon against her chin.

“If you don’t know, that makes you of much more use to me dead than alive, Sophia,” I growl.

I step back, lifting my gun so that it is level with her face.

“It was an anonymous bid! Everyone went in anonymously from the beginning!” she cries.

My rage swells until all I can see is red. “Like I said, you’re more useful to me dead—”

“Luca Pasquino.”

Silence fills the air as a new voice enters the room. I hear my men shifting to aim their weapons, and I slowly turn to face the scum in charge of this entire operation.

Ivan Sokolov.

“How your father would shudder in his grave if he knew you were stepping into others’ jurisdiction without so much as a phone call,” he says.

He’s an older man, his hair graying on the sides. His bright blue eyes are cold as he watches me, and I note that he only has a handful of men with him. He’s either very confident or has no idea what has happened right under his nose.

I hear Sophia behind me, whimpering to him in Russian about making a big mistake and not knowing who she was, but we both ignore her as I step forward. I quietly cross the room, irritation slowly creeping up my spine at this man’s arrogance.

I stand directly in front of him, toe to toe as I speak.

“You sold my wife,” I say.

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