I run angry fingers through my hair, pulling out chunks of it, but I don’t care. I need to find her. I need to get her back. I call her number back over and over again, but no one answers. All I hear is her soft voice on the answering machine, telling me to leave a message. And it is that voice that eventually brings me back to reality. Her voice helps me make sense of what is rioting inside my chest.
I didn’t think I was capable of it. Two months ago, I would have laughed in the face of anyone who told me it was possible, but here I am, pacing in the parking lot of a bar, loving Eve Furino. Or, actually, Eve Volkov. My wife.
I tuck my phone into my back pocket and march back into the bar. I walk past the bartender and the soldiers and go straight for the basement door. I need to be alon
