Page 90 of Owned Bratva Bride
Chapter 18 – Eduard
I brought my gun out and shot the man’s right knee. He cried out in pain, falling to the concrete floor.
“Who bought it from you?!” I yelled, my eyes meeting Ivan’s surprised ones.
“I don’t know them. I just spread the word on a low-key basis and asked the buyer to pay first. I just drop the goods in different locations, and they retrieve them. I’ve never met a buyer,” the man rushed.
“Well, they are goods you stole from me. And the same person has been buying them from you and your crew, making them available in markets where they shouldn’t. So, if you don’t want me to blow your fucking head off, tell me every single thing you know about this buyer.”
“I don’t know them! I just—”
The sound of another gunshot filled the isolated warehouse, and blood poured out from the man’s stomach.
“The name they used when talking to you, the account name when you got payments…tell me!” I demanded.
“I…don’t…” the man responded between huffs.
I pointed my gun at him again. Ivan all but shouted, “Boss, he’s the only link to them. We can’t kill him.”
Directing the gun to a corner of the empty hall, I shot again.
“Have the information ready for me tonight,” I told Ivan as I stepped out.
The sounds of my gunshot didn’t make me less aggravated.
“Where to, Boss?” Leonid asked as he sat behind the steering wheel.
“Where else would I go this early in the afternoon?” I lashed out.
“Sorry, Boss.”
Ignoring him, I looked out the window.
I was off my game; I knew it. I had been since the day before.
Marielle had resisted me, for the first time. She tore my hands off her. Her anger was shocking; it was like none other. I didn’t need a dictionary to know what she meant when she called me unstable. I was very well aware that she referred to my push and pull. But she never resisted whenever I pulled her in. Until that night. And it hurt like hell.
I had expected things to be better between us the next morning, but I woke up silent with anger. She hadn’t shown any sign of knowing I was beside her when she woke up. She just walked into the bathroom and then went downstairs. I sat there, stunned and confused.
I had found her eating in the dining room. She took the farthest seat from mine—the one opposite—as if she had envisaged my coming and didn’t want to risk being near me. Like she couldn’t stand me.
Instead of getting dressed and heading to the warehouse, I had sat across from her, my gaze on her even though she didn’t return it. She wore no frown or scowl. Then she left the room, her plate half-empty.
I hadn’t found her in the bedroom later that night. Going into my home office, I saw through the monitor screen that she was in the study. When she eventually joined me in bed, she wordlessly lay with her back to me, making me feel like the world was suddenly closed up against me.
This morning was no better. I woke up before her, but I decided to stay in bed again. Just to be there when she woke up. Hoping her anger might have lessened or even disappeared. But she went straight out of the room when she saw me beside her. I didn’t know which was worse: the way she looked up at me whenI distanced myself from her or how she seemed to look through me now that she was angry.
Once we arrived at the warehouse, I went to the second store.
“Oh, Boss. They are counting already,” Harry said, walking up to me.
I looked at the guys counting the packets of white powder.
“And what the fuck have you all been doing since?!”
Harry’s mouth seemed to slacken before he could form an answer.
“We’ll have the numbers soon, Boss. Sorry, Boss.”
