THE FABULOUS DOCTOR LUNA HE THREW AWAY?

CHAPTER 2

DIMITRI

FIVE DAYS AGO

"She's gone, Dimitri."

I didn't look up from my desk. I already knew who Viktor was talking about. I had known for two weeks now. Fourteen days of staring at divorce papers with her signature on them, neat and final, like she had been waiting years to write it.

She had. I just didn't see it.

"I heard you the first time," I said, my voice flat.

Viktor didn't leave. He stood there in the doorway of my office, arms crossed, watching me with that look. The look that said he wanted to say something but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

Viktor Morozov was my second in command. My brother in everything but blood. He had been beside me since we were boys running through the Volkov estate, stealing bread from the kitchen and pretending we were soldiers. Now we were soldiers for real. And the war we were fighting was tearing us apart.

"The pack is asking questions," Viktor said carefully. "They want to know where their Luna is."

My jaw clenched so hard I felt the pressure in my skull. "She's not their Luna anymore."

The words tasted wrong. Bitter, like ash on my tongue. Because even though I said them, my wolf didn't agree. My wolf had been clawing at me for two weeks straight. Howling. Raging. Tearing me apart from the inside.

She left. She actually left.

I thought she was bluffing. When she threw the papers at me that night, her eyes red and her hands shaking, I thought she would calm down. Come back. She always came back.

But she didn't. Not this time.

And the worst part? I couldn't even blame her.

"Dimitri." Viktor's voice pulled me back. "There's something else."

I finally looked up. Viktor's face was tight. Not his usual calm, not his usual control. Something was wrong.

"The Italians hit our shipment last night," he said. "Twelve men down. Four dead."

I was on my feet before he finished the sentence. "What?"

"The Zanetti family." Viktor uncrossed his arms, his hands dropping to his sides, fists clenched. "They've been pushing into our territory for months. We ignored it because of the pack situation. They took that as weakness."

My blood went hot. Not warm. Hot. The kind of heat that made my vision sharp and my teeth ache because my wolf wanted out. Wanted blood.

The Zanetti family. Italian wolves with old money and older grudges. They had been a thorn in my side since my father died and I took over the Volkov empire. My father kept them in check through fear. I tried to keep them in check through agreements.

That was my mistake. You can't make deals with snakes.

"Who led the hit?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

"Marco Zanetti. The old man's son."

I knew Marco. Arrogant. Loud. The kind of man who smiled while he twisted the knife. We met once, years ago, at a summit between the families. He shook my hand and I could feel the lie in his grip.

"Pull everyone back to the compound," I ordered. "Every man, every wolf. No one moves alone."

Viktor nodded but he didn't leave. He was chewing on something else. I could see it in the way his jaw worked, the way his eyes kept shifting.

"Say it," I told him.

He met my eyes. "We need a doctor."

I stared at him. "We have doctors."

"We had doctors," Viktor corrected. "Petrov is dead. Shot in the raid. And the hospital is asking too many questions about the men we brought in last month. We can't keep going there. It draws too much attention."

He was right. I hated that he was right.

I sat back down slowly, pressing my fingers to my temples. Everything was falling apart. The pack was unstable without a Luna. The Italians were moving in. My men were dying and I didn't even have someone to patch them up.

And somewhere out there, the only woman I ever loved was living a life without me in it.

I pushed that thought away. I couldn't afford it right now.

"Find someone," I said. "Someone off the grid. Someone who won't ask questions and won't break under pressure."

Viktor was quiet for a moment. Then he pulled out his phone and placed it on my desk. On the screen was a photo. A woman in a white coat, dark hair pulled back, brown eyes staring straight into the camera like she was daring it to blink first.

My heart stopped.

No.

No, that was impossible.

"Where did you get this?" My voice came out rough. Cracked.

Viktor watched me carefully. "She's a trauma surgeon at St. Catherine's Hospital. Goes by Dr. Valentini. She operated on one of our men two weeks ago. Pulled two bullets out of Alexei and saved his life when everyone else in that room had already given up."

I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. I was staring at the photo and the room was spinning around me because I knew that face. I knew those eyes. I knew the way her jaw set when she was angry and the way her lips pressed together when she was trying not to cry.

I knew her.

"Dimitri?" Viktor leaned forward. "You know her?"

My mouth opened but nothing came out. My wolf was going insane. Clawing, howling, throwing itself against my ribs like it was trying to break free.

Because the woman in the photo, the doctor who saved my man's life, who was living under a fake name in a city far from anything she used to know.

It was Sera.

My Sera.

My ex-wife.

Viktor's phone buzzed. He looked down at it, and the color drained from his face.

"What?" I asked, my voice sharp.

He looked up at me, and for the first time in fifteen years, I saw real fear in Viktor Morozov's eyes.

"The Zanettis," he said quietly. "They just found her too."