Page 46 of The Cold Bratva King and His Forced Curvy Bride

I turn, leaning back against the counter. “Is there a point to this, Freya, or are we just engaging in pleasantries?”

She takes a step closer. “I was thinking about Ayaan,” she says.

The name drops like a stone in the room.

“We always seem to come back to him,” I reply, taking a sip of water.

“Well, he’s the reason we’re here,” she says. Her voice is gaining strength, the tremor fading into something harder. “He’s the reason you’re wearing that ring, and I’m wearing this one.” She lifts her hand, the diamond catching the light.

“Is he?” I ask. “Or is he just the excuse you use to justify your rebellion?”

“I don’t need an excuse.”

“Then stop hiding behind a ghost.”

“He’s not a ghost!” she snaps, the control slipping. “He was a person. A person you knew.”

I don’t deny it, but I watch her.

“So you’ve decided to stop speculating,” I observe. “You’ve found your proof.”

Her eyes narrow. She didn’t expect me to concede the point so easily. She expected a deflection. A lie.

I give her neither.

“I know what I saw,” she says, her voice low.

“Do you?”

“Transferred.” She spits out the word like a curse. “That’s what it said. External handling. That’s your nice, clean way of saying you sold him.”

“Is that what you think?”

“I know it.”

I set the glass down on the counter with a sharp clink. The sound seems to echo in the sudden silence.

“You have a very active imagination, Freya.”

“It’s not imagination!” She moves closer, her hands clenching at her sides. “I saw the signature. I saw the initials. N.G. You authorized it.”

I take a step toward her. She doesn’t step back.

“I authorize a lot of things,” I say. “Shipments, deals, personnel moves. It’s a big operation.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she hisses. “You knew exactly who he was. You knew what he was to me.”

“Did I?”

“He was my brother!”

“Maybe he was a liability,” I correct, my voice dropping to match hers. “A loose end that needed to be tied.”

“How dare you.”

“I dare because it’s the truth.”

She’s trembling now but not with fear. With rage. Pure, unadulterated rage.