Page 94 of His Forced Bride

I find Kozlov behind his desk, pressing a blood-soaked shirt to his abdomen.

Someone's crossfire must've hit him and he got away.

He's been bleeding for at least twenty minutes.

His scarred face has gone gray with shock and blood loss.

"Yuri Gravitch," he says, his voice weak but unsurprised.

He knew we'd come, but I don't think he expected to be here.

Someone somewhere failed this man, and I'm going to make sure they never get the chance to repent of that.

"Mikhail."

"Come to finish the job?"

I sit across from him, noting the expanding pool of blood beneath his chair.

"Who ordered the attack on my wife's business?"

I lay my weapon on the desk pointed at him, but I keep my hand loosely wrapped around the grip.

He knows I'm not playing.

I can see the acceptance in his eyes.

He's already given up and knows he will die.

A man like that has nothing to lose, and he won't give up any answers.

He coughs, spraying crimson across the desktop.

"You think I work for someone else?"

A dark chuckle forms but dissolves into more sputtering and blood spatter.

"I know you do. The timing, the target selection—this wasn't your idea."

I shake my head.

"You have enough weapons in that warehouse to arm an entire country. You don't need Dominic's supplier. Just tell me who you're working for and I'll make your death painless and fast."

"Maybe I just wanted to hurt you."

He snarls at me, but it turns to a wince as more coughing attacks him.

"You wanted money. Someone paid you to hurt her, specifically?"

His eyes flicker with amusement.

The wound in his stomach will kill him within the hour regardless of medical intervention, but he still has secrets to protect.

Kozlov tries to shift in his chair, winces at the movement.

Blood seeps through his makeshift bandage.

But everything is stained red already.