Darian frowns. “Honestly Niko, I don’t think that’s how these types of people work. They’re not like us.”
I pace the pristine, freshly decorated study my staff spent an entire day and night refurbishing, my mind racing. There’s still an itch between my shoulder blades that refuses to go away.
Or maybe I am just being paranoid.
Better paranoid than dead, though.
"Keep digging," I order Darian. "There has to be more to this story. We need to find out why the hell Lenka married off her twelve-year-old daughter.”
Unfortunately, my mother-in-law is ‘not available’ right now. Something else that has me suspicious. What the hell else did Emylyah say the other night? The details are a blur, but I’m sure there was something relevant. I guess Darian’s right, and I need to talk calmly to Emylyah. Am I ready for that? It doesn’t really matter, does it? I need answers.
Striding to the door, I yank it open and eye the guards standing there at the ready. “Fetch my wife,” I growl to the closest one while I think of the best way to tackle this. With a brief nod, he strides off.
“You want me to stay while you speak to her?” Darian asks. “Or do you want privacy?”
“Stay,” I tell him. “You can give me your opinion.” And maybe act as a deterrent if things get out of hand, although I don’t tell him that much.
The wait doesn’t help my temper, so when there’s a light tap on the door, I throw it open, only to find two worried looking men there, and no Emylyah.
A cold dread settles in my gut. "Where is she?" I demand, my voice low and dangerous.
“She’s not here, Pakhan,” the soldier I sent to find her says, glancing at the guy next to him, who I know is one of Emylyah’s security detail. I keep the same men on her, so she recognizes their faces. I raise my eyebrow to him in askance. “She left, sir,” he reports, hesitantly.
"What do you mean, she left?" My voice is dangerously quiet. “She’s shopping? Visiting Roisin? Having a spa treatment?” I prompt when he shuffles uneasily from foot to foot.
The man pales and swallows, and I know I’m not going to like what he says before he even says it. “She - she’s gone, Sir.”
His voice is barely above a whisper, but the words echo loudly in my ears.
“Y-you told her to get out, and she did. N-nobody stopped her because you said…” He gulps. “You said you were done with her. We all heard you.”
My world tilts on its axis.
The messenger is dead before his body hits the ground, his eyes staring lifelessly as a trickle of blood seeps from the hole in his head, and I holster the handgun I have no recollection of using.
“Get him out of here. Make sure his family is compensated.” Darian tells the others without so much as blinking, like this is something that happens every day.
It’s not.
I usually have the utmost respect for my men, and I know this one didn’t deserve the fury I unleashed on him, but I’m past caring as I storm down the hallway to the suite I haven’t used since the morning before the confrontation with Emylyah.
I burst into our private quarters, hoping against hope that they’re wrong. But the utter stillness of the living room, the pristine, untouched bed and the absence of a couple of treasured photos confirm my worst fears. She really is gone, and no one stopped her.
For a moment, I stand frozen, staring at the space where she should be. Then a different kind of white-hot rage surges through me.
"Emylyah!" I roar as I whirl around, slamming my fist into the wall hard enough to crack plaster. Again.
Another mess to clear up.
The pain barely registers, even as reality sets in.
Where the fuck is my wife? My pregnant wife. How could this happen?
At least Darian is here to prevent me from going berserk this time, and through the ringing in my ears I hear him calmly take control.
"Check the cameras. Now!" he demands of several of the men. “And find out who was on the gate when she left. I want all the information you can find.”
They all scurry away, most likely to avoid being the next man to taste a bullet. I’m not known for such shows of intimidation or force since I prefer to earn loyalty through respect, rather than fear. But I’m not feeling particularly rational right now, and they all know it. I don’t care, it’ll speed them to do Darian’s bidding, and I’ll have answers all the quicker.
