Page 98 of His Forced Bride
"This wasn't random vandalism," he says quietly, but he won't make eye contact.
"I think they were hoping to hurt a lot of people or send a message of some sort."
I received it clearly.
My employees suffered because of choices I made, alliances I accepted, a marriage I agreed to enter.
Their pain settles in my chest and fuels the idea of revenge.
My father would’ve exacted it already.
There would be bodies lain in the streets by now.
But I'm powerless to fight these sick bastards on my own, and without the resources my business provides me, I can't even hire someone to do it. I have to rely on Yuri.
When Pyotr has spent his energy and needs rest, I visit each bed, each bandaged face, each person who trusted me enough to work in my building.
By the time I leave, the sun is setting and my guilt has hardened into steel resolve.
This cannot continue.
Rosa watches me with worry creasing her features as Yuri's driver takes us back home.
She doesn't speak, but her hands twist in her lap.
She knows what I'm thinking—that this is my fault, that I brought violence into innocent lives.
I know because on the way to the hospital, she tried to convince me it wasn't true, but I know it's true.
My association with the leader of the largest criminal enterprise in St. Petersburg is the reason my business is being attacked, and he is going to help me stop this.
Gates swing open at the compound, and as soon as the car stops, I get out and walk directly to Yuri's office.
Finding the door unlocked surprises me until I step inside and see him slumped in his chair, head tilted back, eyes closed.
Dark stains mark his shirt cuffs, and when I move closer, I see how dried blood is caked beneath his fingernails.
He opens his eyes when my footsteps reach him.
For a moment, he doesn't move, just watches me in exhaustion.
His hair lies disheveled, his tie hangs loose, and a cut above his left eyebrow remains uncleaned.
I came in here expecting to have to fight him to make things happen, but strangely, I get the impression that he's already been out on the war path.
"How are they?"
His voice sounds rough.
I can only imagine what evil atrocities he's guilty of committing in the past few hours.
"Alive."
I stop before I reach his desk.
"Burned and broken, but breathing."
He nods slowly, as if his neck hurts to move it.
