Page 114 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

"He will."

"You overestimate her."

"I don't overestimate her," Matteo said. "I estimate Morozov correctly."

The name came out loaded, like he had been chewing on hatred for years.

I stopped fighting and forced myself to catch every word.

Kiryan had said Matteo had abandoned routes, cleared warehouses, recruited gunmen, bought unregistered cars. This had been set up long before. Isabella had just delivered the perfect bait.

"What do you want from him?" she asked.

Matteo looked at her like she was a partner who forgot her place.

"Everything."

He said it so softly the back of my neck went cold.

"The docks. The warehouses. The shipping lines. The contacts. Every road he still has on the East Coast."

Isabella frowned. "He said he wouldn't give an inch."

"When a man says that, it usually means the price still isn't high enough."

Matteo stepped closer, then bent down in front of me.

"Morozov has held New York too long. He's forgotten other people want his chair."

His fingers tapped the chair back.

"Once he hands it all over, nobody in this city will be able to threaten me again."

I stared at him.

Something didn't fit. He didn't say he'd let anyone go. He didn't talk about an exchange or letting Kiryan walk away. He only talked about no one threatening him.

Cold crept up my spine, vertebra by vertebra.

Isabella heard it too.

She looked at Matteo. "Are you going to kill him?"

Matteo straightened and smiled.

"You think I invited him over for drinks?"

Air crushed out of my lungs.

I thrashed.

The chair jumped hard. The rope tore my wrists open again, and I didn't even feel it.

No.

Kiryan couldn't come.

"Quiet." Matteo set a hand on the chair back, steadying it.