Page 9 of Plus-Size Bride Forced By the Bratva
“We found a burner phone tied to Robert Jensen’s daughter’s fashion design business. Multiple outgoing calls were made days before the incident with the Feds.”
My brows knitted together, but I said nothing.
He continued, “One of them pinged a corporate compliance investigator—internal watchdog. Not the FBI. But close enough to stink.”
I stared blankly into space, finger tapping the surface of the table.
“The girl’s fingerprints are all over this, Boss—dates, numbers, the whole chain—it all leads back to her. If you want, I’ll forward it encrypted.”
“Yes. Do that.” I lifted the glass of vodka and gave it a little swirl. “Send me everything.”
“On it,” he replied, then paused. “Listen, I don’t wanna overstep, but I think you should take care of the girl. She might not look like trouble, but she went through a lot to get the Feds’ attention.”
Another pause.
“All I’m saying is, do not underestimate this girl—she’s tougher and more stubborn than you think.”
“I pay you for information, Markov. Stick to it,” I said, my voice cold as ice.
Before he could apologize, I ended the call.
Markov was right; the girl might be tougher than I thought. She’d begun a shadow war, and I intended to finish it—to show her how big a mistake coming after me was.
My lips twisted into a crooked smirk. This should be fun.
First things first, I’d strip her of her defenses and peel away her resources one by one. I could just as easily confront her and teach her a lesson she’d never forget. But no, that would be too easy. Besides, she wanted to play games, and I was willing to indulge her. All it would take to erode her reputation was for the wrong whispers to reach the right ears. And then, just like that, she’d watch her life crumble right before her eyes.
She was fighting a losing battle without even realizing it. I’d done the math, and there was no way she was getting out of this unscathed. She had zero chances of winning, yet she chose to go to war with the Bratva—with me.
It was just as brave as it was stupid.
I learned that she worked nights at a small boutique so she wouldn’t starve to death. Ravyn and her father had lost almost everything; the Jensen family name had been reduced to nothing.
Yet, with her actions, she’d decided to gamble what’s left of their miserable lives. If they lost it all—and they would—it would be her fault.
I aimed to leave no fingerprints when I ruined the Jensen family and completely destroyed them. They should count themselves lucky that I didn’t plan on taking their lives—though it would be the easiest and safest option.
Why kill them when I could make them dance to my tune?
Patience was a weapon in my world, and I had an abundance of it. I’d wait. I’d be silent, watching from the shadows.
The Jensens were known for their pride, so it would take a while before they’d break. But eventually, they would. By the time I was done with them, they’d be out of options. They’d break under all that pressure, and desperation would seep in through cracks.
When that happened, I’d be there.
That was when the real fun would begin. It was when my plan would swing into motion.
This wasn’t about revenge anymore; it was about control. I wanted to show her that from now on, every breath she took and every step she made would be because I allowed it.
I would have her and her father in the palm of my hand. I would own her like a trophy, and there was nothing she or anyone else could do about it.
Chapter 5 —Ravyn
I stood outside the giant oak door at the entrance to my father’s mansion, my hand hovering over the doorbell. My heart was racing in my chest as I wondered what bad news awaited me behind the closed door.
Each time I stopped by to check on Dad, things just kept getting worse and worse. I was tired of this endless suffering and wished that for once, I’d see a glimmer of hope—a way out of this situation.
I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath, and then rang the bell. A moment later, the housekeeper answered the door wearing her signature polite smile.
