Page 29 of Claimed By the Pakhan

Luka looks at me pensively, waiting for me to elaborate further.

I rake a hand through my hair, feeling the cold seep into my bones. “She may never forgive me if she finds out how we met, and later came to be married.”

“So what? You keep going after her.”

“Being repeatedly rejected by the woman you love knocks you down. Walking into that hospital room, seeing her look at me like a stranger, almost fucking killed me. A man can only take so much.”

Luka keeps studying me, his eyes growing more pensive. “Very well.” He stuffs his phone into his pants pocket and heads toward the door. “You should have some faith,bratan.If Fia loved you before the accident, she can love you again.”

I bid him goodbye, still not convinced.

I pull up a chair, getting started with some work as I watch the crew unload the rest of the containers. Metallic clanging rumbles through the dockyard, followed by thunder as the containers are dropped.

I tune out the noise, logging into the shipping databases to see if I can crack this Judas myself.

The records show that data was leaked to a source outside of our organization, the name ending in ‘Kuzman.’ I swipe a hand around the back of my neck. Everything Luka said is adding up.

A traitor really is among us.

I abandon the computer, shooting up, throwing my woolen trench coat around me. Hastily doing up the buttons, I take the elevator down from the watchtower and reenter the freezing cold morning.

I stick my hands in my pockets, my breath whirling out in front of me like I’m smoking a cigarette—a habit I abandoned two decades ago.

Icicles cling to shipping containers that are hidden away from the sun. The concrete beneath my feet is slippery, black ice concealed in the shadows.

“Cancel the next voyage," I tell the general manager when I spot him up ahead, impossible to miss in hi-vis. “Keep this ship docked for the time being.”

“How long can we expect it to be docked for?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll give you the green light when it’s good to go,” I say, walking past him, entering the parking lot.

I shut myself away in my car, starting the engine. Loose gravel crunches under the car tires as I take a harsh right turn, guiding the car through the restricted access area, back out onto the road.

The time on the dash reads 7:30 a.m. when I set off back home, grabbing a quick coffee on the way to take the cold edge off.

I arrive just after 8 a.m., coffee in hand, keys in the other as I lock up and open the house. Silence fills the hallway, the kitchen empty, exactly how I left it. I finish the rest of my coffee, flattening it in my palm before throwing it in the trash.

Silence is a painful noise. I walk upstairs into the bedroom, the door creaking softly on the hinges as I enter. Fia is still fast asleep, but the clothes and picture frames surrounding her suggest she was awake while I was gone.

My chest aches, the coldness nestling itself deep into my bones.Bylat,she really wants her memories back.

Her learning the truth will kill the both of us. She’ll run far away, perhaps out of state so I’m unable to hunt her down. I canalready picture the rest: her body found down a ditch with the Kuzmin’s initials carved into her skin.

I walk in, careful not to wake her, trailing my finger over one of my favorite photographs of us. A kind lady took it for us when we were on a hike through the waterfalls.

I run my finger over Fia’s electric smile, wishing I could bring that version of her back, when she knew she loved me. Her hair is tied back into a loose bun under a Yankees baseball hat from when we visited New York together.

Meeting her showed me that there was more to life than the Bratva. Some of my employees would disagree, Luka being one of them, but I enjoyed being normal, sightseeing and doing regular couple activities; going on dates, loving on my wife all night, adjusting myself under the table while we dined because I was always fucking hard.

I still am, even when she’s sleeping, but I never feel it now without pain. Doubts are always running through my head, questions ofwhat if?

A week ago, the future was fixed, and now things might never be the same.

Enemies will always be lurking, and Fia being pregnant, possibly hating me forever, changes things. It’s turning me back into the villain. I stare at my reflection and see the darkness crossing my face, waiting to be let in, to be felt.

I murder innocents in good conscience when I know they could be a threat. That’s mild compared to other things I’ve done over the years.

I’m a better person around Fia. If I can’t have her, there’s no telling what I’ll become.