Mile High Daddy (Forbidden Silver Foxes #3)

19. Lila

19

LILA

M om’s missing.

The thought slams into me like a fist to the gut as I stare at my phone, rereading the last messages I sent her.

Me: Hey, are you okay?

Me: It’s been hours. Please text back.

Me: Mom, I’m worried. Answer me.

Nothing.

The messages sit there, unread. The little delivered tag mocks me, but there’s no sign she’s seen them. I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the phone as a heavy, cold weight settles in my stomach. She never takes this long to respond.

I try to tell myself I’m overreacting.

That maybe she lost her phone. That maybe she’s just busy.

But deep down, I know better.

Something is wrong.

I pace the length of my small apartment, my sweater pulled tight around me as my mind races through possibilities.

The last time I talked to her, she sounded off.

She had told me to be careful. Told me to find a way out if I could. And now?—

Now she’s gone.

I stop pacing, my pulse pounding in my ears.

I need to do something.

I need to find her.

Without thinking, I grab my jacket and slip into my boots. The night air is biting when I step outside, but I barely feel it as I head down the sidewalk toward the café.

I don’t know what I’m expecting, but I need someone to tell me I’m not losing my mind.

The café is quiet when I push through the door, the soft hum of the espresso machine the only sound. Maggie is behind the counter, but it’s Alex I spot first. He’s leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, watching me the second I step inside.

Like he already knows something’s wrong.

I march straight toward him. “I need your help.”

His brows furrow. “What happened?”

I lick my lips, glancing around before lowering my voice. “My mom. She’s not answering me. I think—” I swallow hard. “I think something’s happened to her.”

Alex straightens, the shift in his posture immediate. “You’re sure?”

I nod, my stomach twisting. “She always answers me. Always. And now, it’s like she’s just—vanished.”

Maggie, who had been listening from behind the counter, frowns. “Maybe she lost her phone?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not just that. I—I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like something’s wrong.”

Alex studies me, his jaw tight. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I blink at him.

He nods once, like the decision is already made. “We’ll find her.”

I exhale shakily, relief warring with the lingering dread in my chest.

The ride back to my apartment is silent.

I stare out the window, my fingers curled in my lap, my stomach tight with unease. The streets blur past in streaks of orange and red, the city lights glowing like embers in the dark.

Alex doesn’t push me to talk. He just drives, his fingers flexing over the steering wheel, his jaw tight like he’s debating saying something but ultimately doesn’t.

When we pull up outside my building, I grip the door handle, hesitating.

I don’t want to get out.

I don’t want to be alone right now.

But I don’t have a choice.

Alex finally speaks. “Try to sleep.”

I snort. “Yeah, sure.”

He watches me for a second, then exhales through his nose. “I mean it, Leah. I’ll try to start pulling some strings to see what I can find out, but in the meantime, there’s nothing you can do. And hey, maybe it’s nothing, maybe your mom will contact you soon.”

I hesitate before shaking my head. “I hope you’re right.”

He watches as I get out of the car, his gaze heavy, unreadable.

I don’t turn around as I step into the building.

Because I know?—

I won’t be able to sleep.

And I won’t be able to stop this feeling growing in my gut.

Something is wrong.

And I think?—

I think I’m running out of time.

I don’t sleep.

I sit in my dimly lit apartment, curled up on the couch with my phone in my hands, staring at the screen as if I can will my mother to text me back.

Nothing.

I try to distract myself—picking up a book, watching the flickering streetlights outside, even turning on the TV at low volume. But my mind is a restless storm, circling the same thought over and over again.

She’s gone.

And it’s my fault.

I rub my stomach absentmindedly, a small movement that has become second nature. The babies shift inside me, and the reminder makes my throat tighten.

I can’t just wait .

What if she’s trying to reach me? What if she lost her phone? What if she’s stranded somewhere? The what-ifs claw at me, scraping away my common sense.

I reach for my phone and do the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t do.

I call her.

Not on our usual burner number, but on her real number.

The one she never uses anymore.

The one I know is dangerous.

I hit call.

The line rings.

And rings.

And then?—

A click.

My heart leaps into my throat. “Mom?”

A long, dragging silence.

I swallow hard. “Mom, if you’re there?—”

Breathing.

Slow. Even.

My stomach drops.

That’s not her.

I try to hang up, but a voice stops me cold.

“Hello, Lila.”

The phone slips from my fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud .

I scramble backward off the couch, my breath shattering in my chest.

That voice.

That voice.

Mikhail.

My entire body goes numb.

I don’t move. I don’t even breathe.

I can still hear him through the speaker, his voice smooth, controlled. Waiting.

Slowly, shakily, I reach down and lift the phone to my ear, my fingers trembling.

“…How?” My voice barely comes out.

A soft, humorless chuckle.

“You called me, kiska .”

A choked sound escapes me.

No. No, no, no.

I was careful . I changed everything. I left no trace.

And now, because of one stupid, desperate mistake, I’ve given myself away.

I walked straight into his hands.

My pulse pounds wildly in my ears as his voice turns low, dark, deadly.

“You didn’t think I’d stop looking for you, did you?”

I press a hand over my mouth, panic clawing at my throat.

Mikhail has my mother’s phone.

Which means?—

I squeeze my eyes shut, horror sinking in like a blade.

He has her.

“Oh, don’t go silent on me now,” he murmurs, voice like velvet wrapped around steel. “It took me a long time to hear your voice again.”

My heart slams against my ribs.

This is bad.

This is so, so bad.

I have to run.

I have to?—

“I wouldn’t bother,” Mikhail continues, almost amused. “I don’t know where you are yet, but I will soon . ”

Ice rushes through my veins.

Because he’s right.

I just pinged my location.

I just gave him a starting point.

The trap is already closing in.

“You made this easy for me, kiska ,” he says, his tone almost gentle. “Now, be a good girl and stay put. We’ll see each other very soon.”

Then—

Click.

The line goes dead.