Page 95 of His Forced Bride
It just adds to the constant river of crimson that douses his slacks.
"Even if someone hired me, what makes you think I'd tell you?"
"Because your family in Volgograd depends on your cooperation."
Fear replaces the defiance in his expression. "You wouldn't."
"Test me."
He stares at me across the desk, weighing his options.
He's a dying man, but he's still finding the balls to remain loyal to whoever it is that he's been taking orders from.
Kozlov's face twists in a bitter smile, but he refuses to give me a name.
He coughs, and blood trickles down his chin as he tries to speak again, then slumps forward across the desk.
The final rasp leaves his throat and he goes still.
I check for a pulse but find nothing.
Oleg appears in the doorway.
"Building is clear. Charges are set."
I take one last look at Kozlov's corpse, then head for the stairs.
The warehouse will burn within minutes, consuming all evidence of tonight's work.
Once outside, we watch orange flames climb toward the low clouds.
It's another message sent in the only language our world understands—attack what belongs to me and face total destruction.
But questions remain unanswered.
Kozlov didn't act alone, of that I'm certain.
The war isn't just about Dominic's failed arms deal or Kozlov's ambitions.
Someone else is pulling strings, and when I find out who, they will learn what it means to cross me.
17
INESSA
Walking through sterile hospital corridors with Rosa at my side, I carry a vase of flowers that feels meaningless in light of what happened to my employees.
Three of my seamstresses lie in beds here because of my association with the violent world in which my father raised me.
The hostility of which has only increased since his death, and according to Yuri, may continue for some time.
I carry blame like a banner as I enter the first patient’s room.
Katya's hands disappear beneath white gauze with bits of her fingers protruding from the wrappings.
She tried to save fabric samples when flames consumed my showroom.
Now she stares at ceiling tiles with hollow eyes, her face drained of color.
