Page 13 of Her Darkest Possession

She's out there somewhere, carrying my child. Alone. Scared. Possibly even wounded.

That last thought squeezes my chest like a fist and I force myself to focus back on the task at hand, waiting for anyone to send me an update that she might've been found.

Is she safe? Does she know I'm looking for her?

Suddenly, my phone rings again, and I pick up without hesitation.

"Mr. Baryshev?" A woman asks softly on the other end.

The voice on the other end is unexpected. Instead of the usual rough voice of a brigadier, this one sounds soft and understanding.

I glance down at my phone, and see that it's an unknown number.

Odd.

"Who is this?"

"I'm Dr. Jocelyn Espina," she says. "At St. Barnabas Hospital in the Bronx. I used to be on your father's payroll ten years ago."

Espina… I rack my brains for the name but come up empty. While it's true that my father did employ doctors all across the Bronx—both as an easy entry point to gain access to prescription drugs as well as having a steady source of people who can patch up wounded men—I have next to no knowledge about just who is all on the payroll.

That's something Roma handles.

Which means it's also entirely possible that she's telling me the truth.

"What can I do for you, doctor?"

"I think I just saw your wife."

My chest tightens, but I force myself to keep my voice even and to keep hope from blooming inside of my chest. "I need some more proof than that, doctor."

"Of course," she replies quickly. "Young woman somewhere in her mid-twenties. Hazel eyes. Blue hair with red roots."

My lungs expand with their first real breath in twelve hours. The tension coiled around my spine loosens just a fraction.

"That's her," I say, my voice dropping low. "That's my wife."

Relief floods through me so intensely it's almost painful. She's alive. She got away from Grisha. She's in a hospital. But for now, I know she's safe.

"Is she still there?" I ask, already moving toward my car.

"Yes, she was brought in as a 'Jane Doe', but she's since told us her name is Indigo Baryshev."

My heart catches on her use of my last name. Even after everything, she's using it. She still thinks that she's mine.

"How did you get this number?" I ask.

"I contacted your brother Roma first, as he requested. But once I told him what I knew, he suggested that I call you directly."

I pause with the key halfway to the ignition. "Roma told you to call me?"

That's not like Roma at all. My brother is meticulous about proper channels, especially regarding bratva business.

" He thought you might want to hear from me and not him that your wife is pregnant," Dr. Espina says, her voicesoftening further. "We're scheduling an ultrasound for later this afternoon. If you hurry, you might make it in time."

My entire world freezes.

Pregnant. The word echoes in my head like a gunshot.