“I am not,” I roar.
“You are,” Max adds. “You’re losing your shit when you should be working on a solution to find her.”
“She’s gone.” My voice cracks, and I don’t bother trying to steel myself.
God, how am I ever going to forgive myself for letting her slip through my fingers?
I never should have let her out of the penthouse. At least there she was safe. At least there nothing could hurt her, and I always knew where she was.
Five days of not knowing, of wondering, of waiting, is driving me to the brink of insanity.
“We’ll get her back,” Killian says. “But we can’t do that if you’re beating up your steering wheel. Save that for Lucas. He deserves every single bit of your anger.”
I sigh and drop my head back against the headrest. “Okay.”
“Now, we have a lead,” Max tells me.
I stare at the screen, waiting for more information, but he seems hesitant to provide it, setting off alarm bells in my mind.
“Remember what we said about holding onto your anger for Lucas? Keep that in mind.” His eyes flicker to something beside him, and he swallows heavily. “We managed to get a lock on the activity of one of Lucas’s phones. The idiot doesn’t use burners for everything, so our hacker was able to get his call and text logs from his phone provider.” He hesitates. “He called a marriage officiant. We hacked his online calendar and found he’s been booked in for this afternoon.”
A roar of anger tears from my throat, my entire body vibrating with pure, unadulterated anger.
“Orion!” Killian snaps. “You’re holding onto the wrong piece of information. We hacked the calendar. We know where they’re going to be.”
“There’s still a chance,” I whisper.
Max nods. “We’re going to bring her home. I know it.”
I press my eyes closed to force the emotions back in the box they belong in.
God, if Ember thought I was overbearing before, she has no idea what she’s in for once she’s home, where she belongs.
CHAPTER SIXTY
EMBER
Istare at the white tulle like it’s personally offended me.
And it kind of has.
Well, as much as a piece of fabric can.
It’s hideous.
The ugliest wedding dress I’ve ever seen in my life.
The neckline is so high it’s practically choking me, and the sleeves that cover my arms right down to my wrists, paired with the corset, are more reminiscent of a straitjacket than a dress.
Who the fuck picked this monstrosity?
I smooth my hands down the shapeless skirt and sigh.
This is not how I imagined my wedding day.
Well, actually, that’s kind of a lie. I never really considered my wedding day at all because I assumed I wouldn’t have one. But if I had been one of those little girls, imagining how I would choose my dress and walk down the aisle to a man who loved me, this is not what I would have dreamed up.
Not even close.
