Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 60

Chapter 60

MIA

I’d been calling Dr. Hartwick for three days straight, and every call went straight to voicemail. His office line rang endlessly with no answer. Even his emergency contact number–the one he’d given me specifically for situations involving the ritual- produced nothing but silence.

Panic had been building in my chest like a slow–growing tumor, fed by those threatening texts and the growing certainty that something had gone terribly, catastrophically wrong.

*Return what you stole.*

But I hadn’t stolen anything. The ritual had failed. I’d gained nothing but raw magical energy that my body couldn’t even properly process. Whatever Dr. Hartwick had promised me, whatever he’d claimed the procedure would do, it hadn’t worked.

So why was someone threatening me?

I needed answers. Needed to understand what was happening before those threats turned into action.

Which was why I found myself driving to Dr. Hartwick’s private practice on the outskirts of town, my hands shaking on the steering wheel, my mind racing through worst–case scenarios.

Maybe he’d gone on vacation. Maybe his phone had broken. Maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he’d disappeared without a word right after performing an illegal ritual that had killed someone.

But as I turned onto his street, my fragile hopes shattered completely.

Police cars. At least four of them, parked in front of Dr. Hartwick’s office building. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off the

entrance. Officers moved in and out of the building carrying evidence boxes.

I slowed my car to a crawl, my heart hammering against my ribs.

An investigation. They were investigating Dr. Hartwick’s office.

Which meant something bad had happened. Something bad enough to warrant multiple police units and crime scene protocols.

I pulled over half a block away, trying to look casual, just another curious citizen wondering what the commotion was about. Through my windshield, I watched officers carrying boxes labeled “EVIDENCE” to their vehicles.

One officer stood near the entrance, speaking into his radio. I rolled down my window slightly, straining to hear.

“-body discovered three days ago—”

My blood ran cold.

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cause of death appears to be magical-”

Body. Dr. Hartwick’s body. Dead for three days, which explained why he hadn’t been answering his phone.

“-still processing the scene, but preliminary findings suggest curse work—”

Curse work. Someone had cursed Dr. Hartwick to death.

The same someone who was now threatening me?

I sat frozen in my car, trying to process this information through the haze of panic that was rapidly consuming my ability to think rationally.

Dr. Hartwick was dead. Murdered by curse. And I was next on someone’s list, someone who knew what we’d done, someone who

wanted back what I’d supposedly stolen.

I needed to leave. Needed to get away from this crime scene before someone noticed me, before questions were asked that I

couldn’t answer.

My hands fumbled with the ignition, and I pulled away from the curb with a screech of tires that drew attention I desperately

didn’t want.

In my rearview mirror, I saw one of the officers turn to watch my car, his hand moving to his radio.

I drove faster, my mind spinning.

Matthew was leaving for BloodMoon City tomorrow with Theo. He’d told me last night, his voice cold and distant, that Theo needed specialized treatment and they’d be gone for at least a month.

A month. Leaving me alone in this house with whatever threat was coming for me.

I’d tried to tell him I was scared, that someone was threatening me, but he’d dismissed my concerns with barely concealed impatience. Too focused on Theo’s trauma to care that his girlfriend might be in danger.

Ex–girlfriend? We’d never officially defined what we were, and lately, it felt like he could barely stand to be in the same room

with me.

I pulled into the driveway of Matthew’s house–the house that still didn’t feel like mine despite living in it for weeks–and sat in the car, trying to control my breathing.

I needed to call Matthew. Needed to tell him about Dr. Hartwick, about the investigation, about the very real danger I was in.

But what could I say? How could I explain without revealing what we’d done? That we’d forced Bianca into a ritual that killed her, that Dr. Hartwick had been performing illegal dark magic, that someone knew and was coming for revenge?

My phone buzzed with another text from that blocked number:

*Time’s running out. Three days left. Return what you stole or face the consequences.*

Three days. I had three days to return something I didn’t have, something I’d never actually received.

I was still staring at the message when something slammed into my awareness- a wave of magical pressure so intense it made my vision blur.

I looked up just in time to see a figure standing beside my car window. Hooded, face obscured, radiating power that made my

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