Page 67 of Claimed By the Pakhan

“Take a seat,” I say, keeping my voice cordial, like I’m back at work solving cases.

Luka frowns, the chair legs scraping against the floor as he sits opposite me. “Is this about Emil? Why are you calling me here so late?”

“The question is, why did you agree to come round so late?” I say, hitching my eyebrow up at him.

“I thought you were in trouble.”

Hell, maybe I am, being alone with the deadliest snake in all of Washington.

“You remember when I brought up the shipping manifest at breakfast, right?”

“The Vancouver one signed off in my name?” asks Luka, pinching his eyes. “I can see where you’re going with this.”

“Emil thinks you’re innocent, too dumb for your own good.”

“Charming.”

“More focused on getting drunk at the function than being on guard.” I sit back in the chair, tilting my head to one side. The house is silent, the humming refrigerator the only sound. Goosebumps raise on my skin when I glance out of the window. The darkness carries for miles in all directions, and I’m in the middle of the forest, confronting a potential murderer.

The innocence in Luka’s eyes sends shivers running down my spine. Lying about your identity is more terrifying than staring evil dead in the eye.

“You’re not dumb,” I say, watching him closely.

“I’m flattered. You’re kinder than Emil could ever wish to be.”

“Emil doesn’t have a kind bone in his body,” I state. “But at least he’s honest about that and never pretends to be someone he’s not.” I keep staring at Luka waiting for his eyes to switch, my pulse spiking, a hot sweat beading across my forehead.

Emil would kill me for doing this, but confrontation has always been my specialty, no matter how terrifying it can be sometimes. Staring suspects dead in the eye, exposing their wild behaviors, is how you close cases.

“You drink to drown in your sorrows, to make yourself feel better about the crimes you have committed, right under your friend’s nose.”

Luka’s eyes switch, the kindness receding from his face like a tide that will never return.

My heart beats so fast it hums as I stare into the face of evil. The light vanishes from his eyes, replaced by a type of danger that is more petrifying than danger itself.

His features sink into their natural placement, his mouth turning cruel, stretching across his face like a cut that might start bleeding.

I gasp, forcing myself to remain strong, to keep staring into his eyes. But this is a type of evil I’ve never experienced before. He manipulated my perception, using my amnesia to his advantage.

“It’s always been you,” I say, my voice barely audible, softer than a whisper. “I thought it could be, but when I mentioned the idea to Emil?—”

“Emil values loyalty more than anything else, and I have always given him that. He has always been in denial about things, about who he really is, which I have learned to play to my advantage.” Luka narrows his eyes, the color completely gone. “You’re a smart woman, Fia.”

“Oh, please,” I scoff. “Like it takes a genius to figure out the truth.”

“Some people are less in denial than others. And that is why you have always been trouble,” says Luka, slouching back into his seat. The smirk fades on his face, replaced by an even more terrifying expression. “I wanted you dead.”

My throat goes dry, my heart beating like the loudest drum, telling me to get the fuck up and run before I stay here any longer and kill the twins.

Luka’s eyes are two black holes. There is no spirit living inside of this man. Cold, black emptiness exists where his soul should be.

“I had you figured,” I state, mustering up the courage to keep looking at his face. His eyes will haunt me for the rest of my life, but showing weakness in the face of evil always ends in defeat. “You were in the car.”

“No,” says Luka. “But I was the one behind the hit.” Luka folds his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes down on me. “You were never meant to survive. Your death was supposed to knock Emil down, leave him devastated, but your husband is right about one thing. You're a relentless little thing, quite the spitfire.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, tensing my jaw as another thought takes precedence. “How long did I know the truth?”

“Oh,” chuckles Luka. “I observed you for quite some time, watching that pretty face of yours look conflicted as you worked up the courage to tell your husband the truth about me leaking data to Alexander. He would never believe you.”