Page 135 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

Then I’m back on my warpath, blowing through the main doors of the psychiatric ward. Several nurses and doctors are congregated at the front desk. Every one of them turns to look at who the hell is barging into their hospital like a fucking tornado. They look for a moment like they’re about to scold me.

Then they see my face and realize that’s a very bad idea.

“Where’s Dr. Pendergast?” I demand.

The crowd seems to melt away almost immediately. From its fraying edges emerges a young doctor in a crisp white coat. His bouncy blond hair and ready-made smile annoy me immediately.

“He’s not available right now,” he says in a cool, measured voice. “Can I help you with something?”

“What the fuck happened?”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name is Phoenix Kovalyov, and I just asked you what the fuck happened. Stop apologizing and start explaining.”

The smile on his face falters for a moment in the face of my wrath. “Listen, Mr.—uh, Mr. Kyovoloyavov…”

He butchers my last name. That’s the second strike.

“Well, we’re not quite sure, sir,” he says, quickly switching over to a form of addressing me that he can actually pronounce. “We’re trying to figure that out.”

“You’re telling me that my father-in-law was discharged from this fucking facility without my consent and you still don’t know how? Or why? Or where?”

His face pales. “I… Well, I…”

“Enough with this shit. Where is Dr. Pendergast?”

“In his office.” He points down the hall.

“Take me there,” I snap. “Now.”

The blond fuck doesn’t say another word. He turns in the direction of the massive arched corridors adjacent to the main desk and starts striding away. He’s got his shoulders squared and chin high like he thinks presenting a brave front will save him from me.

It won’t.

That’s strike three.

The glass-walled corridors hug a courtyard awash in greenery. Patients walk the grounds slowly, nurses at their sides. It’s peaceful, even beautiful, but there’s something depressing about it all the same. Maybe it has something to do with all the half-mad people that call this place a home.

Dr. Pendergast’s office is at the end of the corridor. The blond idiot knocks but I push him aside and strongarm my way in.

The moment I’m inside, I slam the door on Blondie’s face. Then I turn to the tall, bald man sitting behind his dark mahogany desk.

“Mr. Kovalyov,” he greets as he scrambles to get to his feet. “I—”

“Where is my father-in-law?” I demand, walking right up to his desk and slamming my hands down on it.

“Mr. Kovalyov, I wasn’t here this morning. When I arrived, I was told that… thatyoudischarged your father-in-law.”

“I did not discharge Vitya Azarov,” I say, enunciating every single word.

Pendergast takes the book in front of him and twists it around to face me. “See?”

I look down at the name next to Vitya’s. It’s definitely my name. But the handwriting is all wrong.

“Are you serious?” I growl. “This is supposed to be the best fucking psychiatric ward in the state.”

“And it is—”

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