Chapter 307: Sexologist: Doctor Anya Volkov

As Scarlett stepped out of the room, Rachel returned with a wheelchair, her brow furrowed with a mix of confusion and concern. She pushed the chair toward us, her eyes flicking between Nathalie and me as she spoke, her voice low and hesitant.

"Is there something going on outside?" she asked, her fingers tightening slightly on the wheelchair’s handles.

"I heard rumors... that men were being sent out of the fortress. Some male patients were taken away from the hospital earlier, too." Her gaze searched our faces, a flicker of unease in her eyes. "Do you guys know anything about it?"

I was taken aback for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to me that they might be completely unaware of what was happening. But then it made sense—the hospital was tucked away at the back of the fortress, almost isolated.

The staff likely lived in the dormitories adjacent to the hospital, cut off from the rest of the compound. They probably hadn’t seen anything.

Nathalie, still lost in her own world of fear and relief, barely registered Rachel’s question. "That..." she murmured, her voice trailing off as she stared at Tyler, her mind clearly elsewhere.

I stepped in smoothly, my voice calm but carrying a note of deliberate vagueness. "We don’t know much," I said, shaking my head as if troubled by the uncertainty. "But we have seen men being taken out of the fortress. It’s been happening for a while now."

Rachel’s eyes widened slightly, her grip on the wheelchair tightening. "That’s... really strange," she muttered, more to herself than to us. She glanced back at Tyler, her expression darkening.

"And now this patient... he’s the only male patient left in the entire hospital." Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if she were afraid of being overheard. "Do you think it’s connected?"

I nodded slowly, my expression carefully neutral, as if I were just as confused and concerned as she was. "It is strange," I agreed, letting my voice carry just the right amount of unease.

"I don’t know what’s happening, but it doesn’t feel right." I paused, letting the weight of my words sink in. "Have you noticed anything else unusual? Any other changes around here?"

Rachel hesitated, her eyes darting toward the door as if expecting someone to walk in. "Not really," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rachel’s fingers trembled slightly as she secured Tyler in the wheelchair, her voice barely above a whisper. "Even the male nurses and doctors have been taken away," she repeated, her brow furrowing deeper.

"At first, I thought it was just a precaution—maybe some kind of quarantine or an emergency drill. But now..." She trailed off, her eyes darting toward the door as if half-expecting someone to barge in and confirm her worst fears. "I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s not right. It doesn’t feel right."

I nodded, my expression a carefully constructed mask of concern. "Yeah, it might be true," I murmured, my voice laced with just enough gravity to keep her from digging deeper.

"With everything going on outside, it’s hard to say." My gaze flickered toward the doorway, my mind already drifting elsewhere.

Rachel gave Tyler’s wheelchair one last adjustment, ensuring he was secure. Nathalie stood beside her, her knuckles white as she gripped the handles, her entire world narrowed down to the unconscious form of her son.

The air in the room was thick with unspoken dread, the kind that clings to your skin and makes your pulse quicken.

But then—she walked past.

My breath hitched for just a second.

The woman was tall—tall—her legs seemingly endless beneath the crisp white of her doctor’s coat.

She moved with the kind of confidence that came from knowing exactly what she was worth, her hips swaying just enough to make it impossible to look away. Her hair was a cascade of platinum blonde, so pale it was almost silver, pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail that accentuated the sharp angles of her face. Her skin was flawless, porcelain-white, as if she’d never seen a day of sun in her life.

Russian, I thought instantly. That kind of bone structure, those high cheekbones, the icy blue of her eyes—it was unmistakable.

And her body—God.

The coat she wore was tailored, hugging her in all the right places, the fabric straining just slightly over her full, heavy breasts, the kind that made your throat go dry just looking at them. Her waist was impossibly narrow, flaring out into wide, luscious hips that swayed with every step, her thighs thick and toned beneath the coat.

Even from behind, she was a masterpiece—every curve designed to tempt, to tease, to ruin a man’s self-control.

She was flanked by two nurses, both of them dwarfed by her presence, as if they were nothing more than shadows next to the sun.

The woman didn’t even glance our way, her focus entirely on the tablet in her hands, her lips—full, pouty, painted a dark, sinful red—moving slightly as she read.

My pulse spiked.

I turned to Nathalie, my voice low, urgent. "Take Tyler back to the mansion with Lisa," I said, already stepping away. "Now."

Nathalie blinked up at me, confusion flashing in her tear-streaked eyes. "But—what about you? Where are you going?"

"I’ll catch up," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. I didn’t wait for her response. Instead, I turned and followed the blonde sexologist, my steps quick, my mind already racing.

She had disappeared into a room at the end of the hall. I approached, my eyes catching the nameplate on the door:

"Dr. Anya Volkov – Sexologist | Female Patients Only. NO MALE PATIENTS ALLOWED."

I paused, my lips curling into a slow, dark smirk.

No male patients allowed, huh?

My mind whirred. The fortress had already been purged of all male staff—doctors, nurses, orderlies. That left a very interesting opportunity. If no men were supposed to be here, then who would know if one slipped in? Especially if that one had... motives.

I took a step back, my gaze lingering on the door. The blonde—Anya—was still inside, her presence practically radiating through the wood.

I could almost smell her—some intoxicating mix of expensive perfume and something darker, more primal. The kind of scent that made you want to bury your face in her neck and never let go.

A plan began to form in my mind, twisted and delicious.

Heh. Hee.