Page 19 of Kidnapped Bride

"Every last kilo, Boss."

The men started to gather around me, most of them already pissed off and out for blood after yesterday’s attack on the store. They were bloody and beaten, patched up now, but more than just their egos were wounded. Markin wasn't just taking my stash. He was hurting my men too, and he probably got a lot of joy out of it.

Then Vlad caught my eye and nodded toward the back of the warehouse. "We brought you a gift, though, Boss…" His face was bruised up from earlier, though not having been on that truck, he was blessedly unharmed otherwise.

I walked past Nero and Juice, who each had bloodied clothing, and stalked after Vlad and Gregg, who led me toward the loading docks.

Whatever "gift" they got me had better be something good, because right now with the amount of actual trash I'd been put through, I was on the verge of snapping.

I considered myself a calm man most times, able to temper my responses.

And up until now, my response to Markin had been to not retaliate violently outside of small retributive justice like that coffee shop.

But my men were itching for blood, a deep, cloying need to avenge their fallen brothers that wouldn’t be sated until I took action.

I would only be able to hold them back for their own protection for so long.

Eventually, they'd take matters into their own hands against my orders, and when that happened, the city would devolve into chaos.

My goal was to not let that happen.

It'd bring too much attention to the Dragonov name.

I followed them to the storage room next to the docks. Yakov stayed right on my heels and when Gregg pulled the door, I saw my little gift sitting on the floor.

Young guy in his mid-twenties, maybe, with his wrists zip-tied behind his back and his ankles bound to the leg of a steel shelving unit.

His nose was broken and a cut above his eyebrow was still leaking blood down the side of his face.

One shoe was gone and his jacket was torn at the shoulder.

He looked up at me when I walked in and tried to act defiant, but the tremor in his breathing gave him away before he could sell it.

"One of Markin's," Gregg said behind me. "Snagged him out of the second vehicle before they could peel off."

I crouched in front of the guy and rested my forearms on my knees. He held my stare and I held his.

His hands were shaking and there wasn't a thing he could do to hide it.

This kid was probably a fresh convert, not used to seeing what happened when his boss hung him out to dry.

Any other day, I'd have tried to convert him to my side, show him what Markin did when leaving him behind, and convince him that I would treat him better.

But today, I was out of patience for this game.

"What's your name?"

He said nothing, but as he shook, blood dripped off his chin and that busted nose whistled with every breath.

"I asked you a question."

Still he said nothing.

He kept his eyes on mine, though, wide and frightened.

Probably had no idea what to even do. He wasn't trained for interrogation, either. I could tell in the way his eyes darted around instead of staying locked on mine. Markin really hadn't prepared him for this.

I stood and handed my jacket to Yakov, then I rolled my sleeves to my elbows and crouched back down.