Page 18 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession (Vadim Bratva #12)

I shook with rage as I stared down at the man bound to the chair before me. No matter how agonized I saw him in, my rage never dulled.

Why the fuck was I to show empathy when he showed none to his own fucking brothers?

Blood trickled from his split lip, and from the last punch I had delivered, his right eye was now swollen shut.

He let out a rattled, ragged breath, as though on the brink of something worse. That, too, was an outcome I was willing to deliver.

“I'll ask you again, Marconi. Who paid you?” I asked calmly, like we were two friends having a conversation.

Marconi spat blood onto the concrete floor and looked up at me with fury. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Boss,” I smiled. “It seems you’ve forgotten who I am.”

I nodded at one of my men standing beside me, who handed me a hammer. I tapped it lightly against Marconi's kneecap, watching him flinch.

“Eight of my men died last week,” I said, circling around him like a hawk. “It was surprising, considering how they were moving a shipment that only four of us knew about. Four people, Marconi.” I leaned in close to his ear. “Know anything about that?”

“I told you, I didn't—” His words cut off in a scream as I brought the hammer down on his pinky finger.

“Don't you dare lie to me,” I said, stepping back around to face him.

“We've spent a week following every lead. I refused to believe it could be one of our own. I protected you, said we must have had a security lapse. But when that seemed unlikely, my team started looking inward. They found something suspicious, Marconi. Why did the bank balance suddenly jump by fifty grand in a single day?”

The shock in his eyes told me everything.

I'd trusted Marconi for five years. He'd worked his way up through my organization, proving himself loyal—or so I thought. I never expected it to be so cheap. To be a traitor. To lead his own friends, our family, to their deaths.

I remember how saddened I was by the news when I heard eight of our own had been killed while collecting a routine shipment of uncut diamonds.

Diamonds are a small thing, one would think.

No one needed eight. But we were always careful of theft.

We had security, negotiators, and drivers.

Marconi caused every single one of them to die.

And then, the diamonds went missing.

I spent days digging, questioning, watching for the slightest slip. I barely slept. Barely saw Elena. Every waking hour was devoted to finding the people or person behind this attack.

Never in a million years did my mind run to our own. I thought it had to be an outsider. Had to.

But my men insisted all signs pointed to Marconi.

Such betrayal, I’d never seen it. It was like a cancer, one that made me lose trust in people I thought I could trust.

I hated Marconi for that, for causing this break in my belief. I refused to let him win. No matter what he did, my men—the rest of them—were my family. I’d avenge the ones I lost. Protect the ones who remained.

“Who paid you?” I asked again, tapping the hammer against my palm. “The Bulgarians? The Chinese?”

His only response was shallow breathing, eyes darting around the empty warehouse like he was hoping someone would come save him.

The heavy metal door clanged open behind me, and Marconi almost looked hopeful, but his face fell as he saw it was Dom.

He nodded at me to join him at the far corner of the warehouse, away from Marconi.

I walked over. “Where’s Elena?” was the first question I asked.

“She’s back home.”

“Alone?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Boss, what I found, you needed to know. She promised she’d stay in.”

I nodded, knowing she would if she said so. By now, I trusted her. Besides, if Dom left his post to be here, it must be very important. “What’s up?”

“It's worse than we thought, boss,” Dom murmured. “Our guys in the port authority just confirmed it. Marconi wasn't just selling information.”

“What the actual fuck?”

“He was planning to swap our next shipment—the big one from Naples. He was going to replace our product with fakes. He'd sell the real goods on his own and leave us holding garbage.”

If I was angry then, now doesn’t even compare. The Naples shipment was worth eight figures, and a hit that big would've crippled our reputation.

“Who's he working with?” I asked.

“The Espositos,” Dom said. “And we found this in his apartment.” He handed me his phone.

I scrolled through the messages, and my blood ran colder with each one. These were detailed plans including all our contacts and routes.

“We have to tell every person on this list to hide out. We have to change every route, every plan on here. God knows who he has shared this with.” I told Dom.

“We’re already working on it, boss.”

I handed the phone back to Dom and strode over to Marconi.

“You stupid piece of shit,” I yelled in his face. “You think they wouldn't have killed you the second they got what they wanted? You didn’t think once of all those innocent men you sent to their deaths? Of the men you were about to send to their deaths? My men ?”

“I can explain—” he started.

I cut him off with a backhand that sprayed blood across the concrete. “You were going to ruin me. Make me look like a fool who couldn't control his own operation. Have me selling knockoffs to people you don't fuck with.”

My fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head back. “People who would've killed me for the insult. Who would've wiped out my entire family.”

Another hit. His nose broke under my knuckles.

“For what? For money?” My voice rose, echoing off the warehouse walls. “You've seen what I do to enemies, Marconi, haven’t you? Well, to traitors, it’s even worse.”

I stepped back, breathing hard, and nodded to Dom's men who stood in the shadows. “Get the gasoline.”

Marconi's eyes widened in terror. “No! No, please, I'll tell you everything. I'll—”

A noise by the door cut him off. A soft gasp, almost imperceptible over Marconi's panicked breathing. I turned sharply, and my heart nearly stopped.

Elena stood frozen in the doorway, her face pale with shock. Her eyes moved from me to Marconi, taking in the blood, the bound man, the hammer still clutched in my hand.

For a second, no one moved. The warehouse fell silent except for Marconi's whimpering. Then Elena took a step back, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Elena—” I started, but she had already turned on her heels, was running out of here.

I swore under my breath and started running behind her. “Dom,” I called over my shoulder. “Take over.”

“Yes, boss,” Dom replied, already moving toward Marconi.

I ran out of the warehouse and found her standing there, her arms wrapped around herself as she bent over, sobbing loudly.

My heart twisted. She was never supposed to have seen that. She needed to know that wasn’t me. I approached slowly, for she looked like she was a frightened animal about to bolt.

When Elena didn't move at my presence, as though lost in thought, I gently took her arm to get her attention. She yanked her arm away as if my touch burned.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded, her voice shaking as she glared at me. “What are you doing to that man?”

“Elena, please. I can explain. That man—”

But she didn’t let me finish. She laughed, a bitter, mean laugh that made me recoil inside. “Explain what? You're torturing someone! I just watched you beat a defenseless man half to death!”

I felt my expression harden. “He's not defenseless. He's a traitor who got my men killed and was planning to get me killed, too.”

“So that makes it okay to torture him?” She wrapped her arms around herself, visibly trembling. “My God, what kind of monster are you? It’s okay if you kill. But he can’t?”

The word hit me like a physical blow. Monster. Was that how she saw me? After everything, after the nights we'd spent together, the mornings sharing coffee and conversation?

“I did what was necessary. There were lives on the line,” I said, my voice colder than I intended.

“Necessary?” She shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes. “There's nothing necessary about what I just saw. That was cruelty. That was... evil. There are a million ways to deal with traitors, but you looked like you enjoyed torturing him. Like it was fun. Your idea of a fucking party.”

I felt my anger flare now. She thought I was having fun? “Were we in the same fucking room?” I asked, unable to hold myself back. “What I did and had to, I hated every second of it.”

“Right,” she scoffed. “Lie to yourself. Go ahead. Lie .”

“You think I enjoy this shit?” I yelled, throwing my hands up in frustration.

“You think I get off on beating people, on torturing them?

This is my life, Elena. This is the world I live in.

It's not pretty or kind, but it's what I have to do to survive. You of all people should understand that. Your family makes similar decisions every single day!”

“Don't you dare compare yourself to my brothers,” she spat. “They would never—”

“They would never what?” I interrupted, anger flaring. “Never torture someone? Never kill in cold blood? You think your precious family has clean hands?”

“They protect people! They have honor!”

I laughed, an ugly sound. “Honor? Is that what you call it?”

“Yes! Unlike you, they don't enjoy hurting people. They don't—”

“Your brothers are murderers,” I cut in, my voice rising. “Just like me. Worse than me.”

“That's not true,” she insisted, her eyes flaring with rage. “They're nothing like you.”

“No, they're not. Because I've never killed a pregnant woman,” I snarled, the words escaping before I could stop them.

Elena stumbled back like I'd struck her. “What?”

There was no going back now. The rage and pain I'd kept buried for years came pouring out like poison. “You want to know why I hate your family so much? Why I took you? It wasn't just about Larissa.”

“I don't understand,” Elena whispered.

“Adriana,” I said, the name burning my throat. “Her name was Adriana. We were engaged three years ago. She was carrying my child, and your fucking brothers killed her in cold blood.”