Page 73 of Claimed By the Pakhan

Because I always strived to go above and beyond. Helping clients was fun and games for a while until my brain craved something more, something real and dangerous with high-stakes and consequences. Perhaps I protected my peace so hard that things turned boring.

I take a right at the end of the street, crossing with the pedestrians when the light tells me to.

After walking another block, trusting the GPS to show me the way, I stall suddenly in my tracks, gasping.

“No social awareness whatsoever,” mutters the woman behind me, making a point of swerving past me, shooting me daggers.

I’m too in my head to apologize, to give anyone the time of day, as I blink repeatedly, staring at the road in front of me. Cars shoot past, driving over the same bit of road I was almost run over on.

The fog in my head clears, causing me to stumble into the building. I catch my breath, palm against the wall as I recount staring down at the shipping report before it was ripped.

I look up and see Luka staring directly at me. The cars move around us, the sounds of the engines disappearing, replaced by a thick silence.

Luka’s eyes are cruel, his mouth warping into something mean as he brings his hands together, clapping, congratulating me on my hard work.

This is the first time we’re facing each other after I found out he was leaking information.

I found out the truth a while ago, but speaking the truth aloud, telling Emil, is what concerns me. He lashes out without warning. He could accuse me of lying, perhaps even shoot the messenger.

And Luka knows this, hence the smile.

Anger consumes me, flooding my head with adrenaline. Emil has always trusted Luka. They have been friends for years, partners in the Bratva, and the bastard stands here on the other side of the road showing his face without shame.

My entire blood supply drains to my chest where I feel a ball of fire burning, ready to burst. This ends today. I face my fear and tell Emil the truth.

I set my eyes on Luka.

The smile on his face suggests he’s reading my anger.

I take a deep breath, waiting for the cars to pass so I can cross the road and get the fuck away from this city. Emil’s house ismy only safety net, the one place in this world that feels real in a world full of deception and masks.

I wait for the traffic lights to flick red, ensure the road is clear before stepping out to cross.

My life flashes before my eyes before I can even take my next breath, a black car appearing out of nowhere. The masked driver acknowledges me but makes no attempt to stop, beelining straight for me, everything turning black.

I gasp, the sound of passing cars fading back into existence. Keeping my palm on the wall, I glance across the street, locking eyes with a few confused pedestrians, no sign of Luka.

My heart tremors, the emotional side of my brain tuning back in, reminding me that Emil could be dead. The lack of notifications on my phone screen is starting to become a concern. If Emil was home safe, my phone would be buzzing constantly with calls from him.

The skin around my hips prickles, yearning for Emil’s arms to cradle me there, to pick me up and take me home. I never really had that until I met him.

I blink myself back to reality. The future is all I have left, so I put my best foot forward and cross the road where I was hit, pushing through the anxiety, the memories of the past, stumbling straight into a coffee shop when I make it to the other side of the street for a double espresso latte.

Seattle is a city that never sleeps, things always moving, the momentum never broken. I always wanted my life to be fast paced. When you’re busy rushing from A to B, you have no time to spare to overthink, which is what I’m doing now, drinking coffee alone, weighing up my options.

Moving in with Chloe would be an incredibly big ask. I need to find an apartment to move into for when the twins arrive.

Guilt hits me out of nowhere as I’m flicking through my phone, overwhelmed by all the things I need to have ready for when I give birth. My birth plan information is with Emil.

As far as I’m aware, he’s involved in the birth. A visit to the hospital is needed so I can update my plan and deliver my babies alone without my husband disrupting everything, tempting me to fall back into his arms.

I rake my hair away from my face, caffeine doing nothing but adding to the stress of this all. I need diapers, outfits; a stable roof over my head in a safe area of the city.

I medicate my stress with caffeine, sipping until the mug is empty. I tilt the mug on the saucer, analyzing the grains of coffee left at the bottom like a hopeless fortune teller.

Snapping out of it, I slip my phone, giving Chloe a ring, tapping my hand on my thigh, impatiently waiting for her to answer.

“Oh my god,” I heave as soon as she answers. “I was worried something had happened.”