Dmitri
Gde, chert voz’mi, ty?
Where the hell are you?
I voice a reply.
Konstantin
Chto sluchilos?
What happened?
When he doesn’t respond, I call Dmitri, but he doesn’t answer. My pulse spikes, adrenaline clawing at me. I try again, and still no answer.
The world around me starts to melt away, the engine roaring beneath me as I speed down the street.
If she’d been taken, they would have told me. This is something else.
I call her number, and it rings. And rings. Frustration burns through me, and I slam my fist into the wheel, the anger building.
I quickly dial the cleaning staff. When the voice on the other endanswers, it’s calm, but there’s a subtle edge of worry beneath the words.
“Sir?” Flora says, and I sense that immediate fear in her tone.
“Is my wife okay?” Every syllable cuts through the air, my mind racing, desperate for answers. She needs to be okay.
“Um, I don’t know much, sir. Only that she came home upset, and she rushed upstairs. But when she was there for a while, Maksim tried to get her to come out, but she wouldn’t.”
Blood pumps faster through my veins. Something is definitely wrong. Maybe her therapy session didn’t go well.
“I’ll be home soon.” Dropping the call, I punch the gas and drive faster.
Every second, every heartbeat, feels like a lifetime. My hands grip the wheel until my knuckles turn white, and terror unlike anything I’ve ever known takes hold.
When I finally pull into the driveway, I don’t even take the time to park properly. Flinging open the car door, I rush toward the house and enter as one of my men lets me in. I practically sprint up the stairs to find Maksim and Dmitri standing in front of the bathroom door in the hall.
“Chto proiskhodit?” I ask while I fight to suppress the pure panic in my chest.What’s happening?
Dmitri’s jaw clenches. “She came from the therapist’s office upset, said she wanted to go home. When we got here, she ran upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom. We got worried when it was too long.”
It’s as if the air in the room has been sucked out, my lungs tight and burning with every breath. I don’t even want to acknowledge the dark thoughts creeping in.
“Tessa,” I call, my voice softer than I feel as I knock gently on the door. “Tessa, open the door. It’s me, Konstantin.”
No answer.
A sickening coil twists in my gut. A deep, dreadful feeling thatsomething is horribly wrong.
Without hesitation, I slam my shoulder into the door, the wood cracking under the force before splintering open. And what I see before me knocks the breath out of me.
Tessa lies on the floor, unconscious, blood pooled around her, a razor resting dangerously close to her thigh.
“No! Tessa! No!” I roar, dropping to my knees beside her, frantically searching for a pulse.
There’s nothing.
“BLYAT!”
