Page 46 of Claimed By the Pakhan

My chest tenses. Love crashes over you unapologetically, without warning. Love is a feeling, a card you’re dealt with.

My love for Fia didn’t fit the other cards in my deck. I was dealt it out of nowhere, unsure what to make of the feeling. Running a Bratva and being in love is like being dealt the King and the deuce. For the first year I met Fia, I spent my days resenting both her, myself and the world for making me feel such weakness.

She was a problem, and I had to take care of that problem strategically, waiting for an opening to drop the low card so I could focus on my other higher cards.

But every time I stalked her, kidnapped her; every time she came close to reporting my suspicious behavior to her boss, something switched. I wanted to keep the card. She was everything I’d never seen in a woman before. She was grounded in her beliefs, sticking up for what she believed in, never changing, even when the odds were against her. She went from being a deuce to a king—the most important part of my life.

Where my mother and sister both died, letting circumstances get the better of them, Fia remained stubborn and strong, proving to me that she could survive…

Until she prioritized answers over her own life, like she valued work more than her own life.

It was like I was standing in front of a mirror, staring at myself, my own insecurities coming to light. She shone a flashlight oneverything that was wrong, encouraging me to become more like a man, less like a monster.

“There’s more than one definition of what it means to be in love, sweetheart,” I tell Fia. “And what I have with you is real…”

Until she falls asleep tonight and connects the pieces, finishing the rest of the dream when I force her into marriage after she was almost killed.

I saved her from herself, but she’ll never see it that way.

My phone buzzes. I break eye contact with Fia, checking my phone. Alexander Kuzmin has surprised me with a text message.

What a delightful way to start the day, attending a ceasefire meeting with a man who, for years, has failed to call it quits with me.

“Who is it?”

“Alexander Kuzmin wants to arrange a meeting with me,” I tell Fia, rising from the bed.

“You should go. Perhaps you’ll figure out which one of your men is leaking information to him,” she says, winking.

I grind my jaw, leaving her alone in the bedroom. Luka needs to give it a fucking rest and stop telling her all of this information.

I return downstairs to see him sipping coffee over the island, nonchalantly flipping through a newspaper.

I slam both hands down on the table, catching his eye. “Congratulations. You’re on your way to putting Fia in another coma.”

“How’d you draw that conclusion?”

“The more she knows, the more interested she becomes. I’m dizzy from how many times I’ve been going around in circles, reminding her of this point. Now I’m having to lecture you.”

“No lecture needed,bratan.I understand.”

“Do you?” I lean in across the island. “Fia works as a financial forensics investigator. And now she has amnesia, which means she’s putting her skills to the test even more than before, determined for answers. She’s my wife, five months fucking pregnant. Stay out of my relationship."

“Believe me,bratan,I have no interest in breaking up your relationship, but Fia was looking lost.”

“I pay you for business guidance, not for help with my personal life. I’ll be the judge of what Fia needs as her husband,” I say, stealing Luka’s coffee, necking the rest of it. Returning the cup to the saucer, I look back into his eyes. “In other news, Alexander has asked me to meet him.”

“Which confirms he’s back in Seattle,” says Luka, the corner of his mouth twitching. “What does the bastard want?”

“My empire, but he’s wanted that for years. The man is like Teflon—nothing ever sticks with him. If he was powerful enough, he would already have my Bratva.”

“Things can change,bratan.We all need to stay alert.”

“If he wants my dockyard, then he shall have it,” I say, pushing away from the table, “when I pin his dead body to the lookout tower and watch the birds fight over his flesh.”

“What is the purpose of this meeting?”

“He’s calling for a ceasefire.”