Page 46 of The Pakhan’s Hidden Heir

There’s a narrow alley running between the ice cream shop and the bank next door, and I take it, walking her quickly past the dumpsters until the street is behind us and out of sight.

Whoever did this is probably watching, hoping they’re either sending a message or that they’ll find me dead in the rubble. Or maybe they’re targeting Raina now. I’ve been out and about many times in the past few months after learning there was a threat. Never once have they come after me.

God I’m an idiot. I shake my head, moving faster, and Raina’s crying hard now, gasping for air as I keep her headed away from that mess.

They’ll find the car and think they’ve been successful, and the authorities won’t even be able to track it to me. It’s owned by a company that’s owned by a shell corporation to keep my name distanced.

But we can’t stay out here exposed. I need help so I pull my phone out and call Akim.

“Yeah, boss, what’s up?” He sounds so casual, and he has no clue what just happened.

“We were hit, Akim. The car’s gone,” I tell him, “somebody wired it. We’re on foot on the east side of Dr. Nikitin’s building, in the service alley behind the ice cream place. I need you here fast and I need you to keep this quiet.”

There’s a short pause, like he’s trying to decide what I mean, then he sounds instantly enraged. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he says, and the line cuts out.

Then I turn to Raina who buries herself in my chest sobbing. She clings to me, shaking like a leaf and I feel a surge of protectiveness crest over me. “I’ve got you,” I tell her. “I’ve got you, and you’re safe now.” Sirens are wailing in the distance now, coming to swoop in and put out this fire, but another fire is burning hotter than ever. Someone thinks they can touch my family, kill my unborn child, and I’m not going to stand back and watch it happen. I have to find out who is doing this and stop them, and until I do I will ensure Raina never leaves my sight or the safety of my home.

She’s right.

It might be dangerous for my heart to let her get close to me, but I won’t allow my enemies to harm her or my child.

“You’re alright,” I tell her, but I hear the coldness in my tone. A murderous rage has settled on me, and I’m unable to separate my need to preserve the future of my empire from my need to protect Raina. “It’s over now, and Akim’s on his way to us.”

16

RAINA

Ingrid carries a fresh tray up and sets it on the nightstand, lowering herself onto the edge of the mattress beside me.

Steam still rises off the broth she’s brought, and the stench reaches me under the covers and turns my stomach.

I grumble, rolling over and praying she just goes away.

I’ve spent the whole week beneath these blankets, jumping at every sound that echoes up through the floorboards. That explosion destroyed any lasting illusion I lived in, exposing this for what it really is and who Bastian really is.

He hasn’t come out and said it, but I know Lada is right. I haven’t spoken with her—kind of hard to without a phone—but I don’t even want to tell her to hear, “I told you so.”

“I’m not hungry,” I grumble, but Ingrid folds the covers back and smiles at me softly. She’s so motherly it’s hard to push her away sometimes, but she’s not my mother and I’m not interested in Bastian’s dumb diet.

“I brought you soup, sweetheart.” She nudges me until I sit up, then she takes a spoonful, hovering it toward my mouth. “Just a little,” she coaxes, waving the spoon in a slow circle. “You’ve hardly touched a thing since last week Tuesday, and this broth won’t hurt you. I made it myself.” Her eyebrows rise in a pleading gesture. “Don’t you want to try it?”

I turn my face toward the wall and draw the blanket higher, shaking my head against the headboard while she keeps up her gentle pressing. “Please, I’m not hungry. I couldn’t have a sip.” I wish it was lobster, or maybe steak. I’d eat a thick juicy steak right now.

She lowers the spoon back into the bowl and folds her hands in her lap, studying me the way she has all week. “Alright, we won’t fight over the broth. But there’s bread here too, soft in the middle the way you like it, and a bit of the pear I sliced this morning. You could manage a slice of pear, couldn’t you?”

“I’m not hungry, Ingrid.”

“You told me the same thing yesterday, and the day before it.” She reaches over and smooths a strand of hair off my forehead, tucking it behind my ear. “A woman in your condition can’t keep starving herself, sweetheart. That little one’s pulling everything it needs straight out of you and leaving nothing for you. You feel how weak you’ve gotten. I see it in your eyes.”

I keep my eyes on the wall and say nothing. Bastian will come to me, or I will not eat again.

“Half a slice.” She lifts the pear and holds it where I can’t help but see it, turning it so the glisten of moisture on its surface catches the light. “You don’t even have to do it yourself. I’ll feed you.”

“I can’t.” I’m almost repulsed by that. My own grandmother would’ve never offered to feed me bite by bite like I’m a child. But the hardness inside me softens when she smiles.

“You can, love, you’re only frightened.” She sets the pear down and leans closer, dropping her voice to a soft murmur. “And I don’t blame you a bit for it, after what you saw out there. But starving yourself won’t undo a single moment. It only makes two of you weaker instead of one.”

I shake my head again as tears well up. I don’t want to speak about what happened with her.