Page 34 of Claimed By the Pakhan

“No, I’m sorry Mr. Volkov. But she looked like she had somewhere she needed to be.”

“Okay, thank you.”

The receptionist continues grinning as I bid my goodbye, flying out of the hospital and back out onto the street.

I was hoping to catch Fia at the ultrasound this afternoon, but my little spitfire is always finding ways to run away, even when it comes at a cost to our babies.

I click on my phone, standing in the middle of the sidewalk in the pouring rain.

Calling her is pointless. I usually have more luck checking our shared bank account, but the only transaction she made was slightly over an hour ago at a café, which she’s no longer in.

I already did a sweep of the area.

The rain falls heavy, cars splashing up puddles. I’m tucking my phone into my pocket when it starts ringing.

“Luka,” I begin, standing under shelter, away from the flow of pedestrians. “Did you find the Judas? Please tell me who I need to murder.”

A few pedestrians look up in passing, overhearing the conversation. It’s a figure of speech in their world.

“I’m still working on the Judas, but I found Fia wandering around the dockyard.”

“What the fuck is she doing there?” My chest tenses, silence filling my body.

“Trying to jog her memory, apparently…” Luka pauses for a moment. “It appears your wife has found her way back to the start line.”

“How does she know about Harbor Island? I never told her.”

“Perhaps more memories are starting to return.”

“Impossible.”

“Maybe not,” says Luka.

“That’s where she was almost killed by the Kuzmins,” I grow, kicking my foot up onto the wall.

“Exactly, so this could be a positive.”

“Or a negative,” I add, “depending on what she has remembered. Fia has visited the docks a few times. Where is she now?”

“Safe, there’s no need to fret. She’s in the operations room with a blanket wrapped around her, sipping a mug of cocoa.”

“She’s not sick,bratan.”

“Perhaps not, but she is cold,” says Luka. “I’ll bring her back to yours. Meet us there.”

The line dies before I can say any more. I huff, shoving the device into my pocket. Fia wandering around the city is one thing. Walking through a danger zone is another, where the Kuzmins could be lurking. Not to mention, Fia walking through restricted access zones, investigating my business, is how she came to be on my radar in the first place.

I slide into the car, slamming the door, speeding through the city. Thank fuck she was found by Luka. I could have lost her today, and the blame would be on me for not locking all the windows. The ones upstairs should have been safe. Fia jumping out one of them earlier means I need to tighten my forces and enforce some punishment.

I park up in the driveway, Luka arriving minutes later, guiding a very aggravated Fia out of the car.

“I’ll take it from here,” I say, flashing him a look as he puts his arm around her.

He’ll have no left arm by the end of today if he keeps placing it like that around my wife like that.

“Of course. I’m just glad she’s safe,” he says. “Walking around restricted access zones where there are live stackers is a recipe for disaster.”

“I know how to protect myself,” mutters Fia.