Alpha Stan Larsen’s POV
I told Patrick to get his ass back here, and went for the phone. I sent a text to Alpha Viktor, asking him to join the video link, and it was urgent. Then I poured myself a drink. A tall drink, straight Irish Whiskey, and I gulped a little down. I let the burn settle over me as I linked for my mate and my Beta to join me in the office immediately.
“What’s going on,” Larissa said as she opened the door from her adjoining office. She took one look at me and ran to my side, pressing her lush body into my side. My wolf calmed, I scented her hair and relaxed. Sitting down, I pulled her into my lap, something I did when I needed to keep from losing control. She was the only one who could keep me from a rage when bad news was around, and this was close.
“Patrick will be here in five minutes, Alpha.” Peter came in and sat in his usual chair across the desk from me, leaving the other for his son.
I quickly filled my mate in on what had happened, and she called for Abigail to join her mate. She arrived with her son Patrick, and he sat on the chair while she sat on Peter’s lap. “How the hell did we miss this?”
Patrick hung his head. “It’s my fault, sir,” he started. “I told her about Chicago, how she could get a passport overnight. I should have kept a closer eye on her.”
“Yes, you should have,” Peter said. “The question now is how far she’s gotten.”
“Betas, I need you to find out where she is now. Patrick, go pack. I need you to be ready to get her back here if she’s headed to Russia already. Go, we don’t have much time.” They practically ran out of my office as Abby’s fingers rubbed the back of my neck.
“She’s got more spunk than I imagined,” she told me. “I should have known, though. She’s a Beta’s mate, and an Alpha’s daughter. We should have anticipated she wouldn’t ask or wait for help.”
“I know. I’m waiting for Alpha Viktor to call back, if she’s there now, he’s the only one I trust to help.” I rubbed my hand down her back, causing her to rumble her pleasure low in her chest. I ran my hand up by her neck, finding the spot behind her ear that always caused her to squirm with pleasure. She settled herself into my chest as we shared a moment.
Of course, that was when the computer beeped that a video call was coming in. “Dammit,” I said as she sat up. She put her arm around my shoulder as I leaned forward and accepted the call. “Thank you for calling, Alpha Viktor,” I said.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear back from you so soon, Alpha Stan. Nice to see you again, Luna Larissa, you look better than ever,” he said smoothly.
“Thank you, Viktor. Give Marina my regards,” my mate said.
“This isn’t a social call, unfortunately. It appears our human guest is on her way to Russia right now to look up this Father Kempechny and find out more about her parents. It’s possible she is already there.” I watched his eyes widen, he understood how bad this was. “We’re trying to locate her now, but if she does make it, we need help protecting her until we can convince her to return.”
He shook his head, dropping his head to his hand. “You need a lot of help for a woman like that,” he said. “I’ll get some men there. It’s not my territory, but with Yevgheny’s pack in tatters, I can get away with it. I’ll get some warriors up there, have them watch the good Father’s church and apartment. What if we spot her? Should we grab her?”
“No, she knows nothing of werewolves and we need to keep it that way. If she’s scared off, she’ll never accept Beta John as a friend much less a mate.” I got a link from my Beta, he verified she had been on a flight to Moscow that arrived about eight hours ago. I passed the details to Viktor, along with a photo we had of her.
“We just need her watched until she can get back onto the plane and back to us,” my mate said. “We’re sending Patrick over there as soon as we can get him a flight. Hopefully he can keep her out of trouble and convince her to come home before someone finds out who she is.”
“True, because if she mentions her real name to the wrong people, she’ll be dead before the end of the day.”
The drive to Moscow left us with plenty of time to talk, and the Father was a fountain of knowledge about my mother. I learned more about her in that drive than I could dream of my mother; the foods she liked to eat, her love of Ballet, her devout faith. He shows me a photograph of my mother, holding me when I was a newborn. I could see the love in her eyes as she looked down at me, and yet it didn’t reach her face.
We arrived in the late afternoon to an office building in the east end of Moscow. “No matter what, you are not to use your real name with her,” the Father told me. “She will be given all the information we have on you and your mother EXCEPT your real name. You will only be Natalya here.” Riding the elevator, we soon arrived at the elegant office of Olga Alexandrov, a prominent estate law attorney. She was a severe looking woman in her forties, wearing a dark skirt and white shirt with her hair in a bun.
We were led to her conference room, and I let Father Kempechny take the lead. “Thank you for seeing us on some short notice, Mrs. Alexandrov. I am pleased to introduce my friend Natalya Klishnina. She only speaks English,” he said apologetically.
“That is not a problem. A pleasure to meet you, Natalya. What can I do for you?”
“Natalya is the daughter of one of my parishioners. In 1996 she was raped by the owner of the club she worked in and returned to her hometown pregnant. She gave birth to Natalya there.” He handed over a copy of my birth certificate, the father listed as “Unknown.”
“You seek your mother?”
“No, she died when I was four months old,” I said.
“She was killed on orders of her father, Yevgheny Zubkov.”
Olga’s eyes got wide and it took her a moment to recover before her professional face was back. “Zubkov? The head of the Mafia in Moscow?”
“Yes. His estate is currently in probate because he died without an heir. Natalya is his daughter, she wants to file to be recognized as his daughter and receive the inheritance his direct descendent should get.” The Father patted my hand on the table. “Natalya never knew his name, not until today. Her mother confided in me his identity and I helped to hide her after her mother was killed by him. She went to Zubkov when Natalya was a baby, asking for support, but was killed instead.”
Olga wrote a few things down on her pad, then looked up. “You have proof of this?”
He pulled out a cassette tape recording, handing it to her. “This is the story in her own words. She recorded it before she went to Moscow, just in case,” he said. Then he pulled out a smaller cassette, along with a player that was about the size of a pack of cigarettes. “She got a meeting with Yevgheny, and had this hidden in her purse when she went to see him.”
I listened to the meeting in horror, the Father stopping and starting the tape as he translated for me. “Miss Klishnina, Mr. Zubkov will see you now.”
“Mr. Zubkov, thank you for seeing me.” I started to cry, she sounded a lot like I did.
“My pleasure. Please, sit. Would you like a drink, Ekatarina?”
“No thank you, sir.”
“Very well, what can I do for you? Do you need a job again?”
“No sir, I no longer dance. It’s about my daughter, Natalya. Our daughter.” I heard her purse moving. “I don’t mean to cause you trouble, sir. I wouldn’t have dared given your name as her father, but you are. I was a virgin when you took me, I’ve been with no other man. I am here only to ask for help.”
“I see. What kind of help do you need?”
“My savings have run out, and I can’t make enough money as a waitress to cover the cost of child care and my home. I have no family left to help me. I’m begging you for assistance, sir. I will never reveal her father to anyone, but I have to live.”
“I understand. You have nothing to worry about, Ekatarina. Your struggles are over, I’ll take care of everything.”
“Thank you, sir. Thank you.” He reached over and turned off the recording.
“Is there more?”
“I don’t think you want to hear more, Natalya. She was told she was going to a lawyer’s office to set payments up, instead his guard broke her neck and stuffed her into the trunk of his car. I saw them unload the body and make it look like an accidental fall.” He pushed the recording over to Olga. “Of course, we will be happy to supply DNA for testing that will prove Yevgheny was her father.”
“Of course. It will be difficult, but it can be done,” Olga said. “From what I have read in the papers, you are correct, he has no direct heirs. The courts are trying to determine how it should be split among his more distant relatives.”
I looked at her. “He was my sperm donor, never a father. I want to be his heir not to carry on his legacy, but to allow my Mom to have a final revenge after all these years. All she wanted was a little money to live on.”
“And you’ll end up with everything,” Olga said. She was fully aware of the value of his estate, and even her 5% of net proceeds fee would be a fortune. “You have yourself a lawyer,” she said as she shook my hand.