Page 30 of Stolen Empire

He understands.

"Get rid of him," I say, tossing the crowbar onto the desk.

"Make sure no one finds him. And spread the word. Anyone who thinks about crossing me ends up the same way."

"Boss," Gavriil says, and I know it's his acknowledgement of my orders.

He'll do as I say because he fears me, and that’s the best position for any one of my men to be in right now.

They will respect me or they will all learn the same lesson.

I walk out of my office, rubbing the sweat from my palms onto my slacks.

Rodion was the leak.

Now he's gone, and the operation is secure again.

But there's more work to do.

The Radich crew is still out there, still circling, and they'll come harder now that they've lost their source.

And not only that, when they learn that I'm the one who ended the flow of information to their runners, they'll be doubly pissed.

They've never forgiven me for killing their precious crewman after he stole from me, and I can't count the number of times I've had to fend off some sort of attack from a man known to associate with them.

I spend most of my days working hard here, inside the secure perimeter, but if they had the chance, they'd take me out as a revenge killing and I know that.

Now it's my time to act first, and I've got momentum moving my direction.

If I can figure out how to harness Katya's skills to my advantage, even better.

And now that this is done, I have time for her.

I smile to myself as I head for the door.

She's strong, defiant, and completely unaware of how much I want her.

But she'll learn soon enough.

And when she does, she'll understand exactly what it means to belong to me.

7

KATYA

Seven days.

I've been locked in this tack room for seven days, and I'm starting to lose track of time.

The darkness blurs together with brief moments of light when someone opens the door to shove food at me or swap out the bucket I'm forced to use as a toilet.

The smell is unbearable now, even though they empty it regularly.

The stench has seeped into the walls, into my clothes, into my skin.

I sleep on the floor because there's nowhere else, curled against the wall with my arms wrapped around my knees.

My body aches constantly, and I've stopped trying to keep track of the bruises.