Chapter 35 Miko
MIKO
I never knew tracking Anika would prove to be such a monumental task. But by the third day of her disappearance, I’m on the brink of going completely mad.
“Miko, brother, you need to take a break,” Gio says softly, grasping my shoulder as I sink into a crouch before the ticket counter in Detroit, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes as I fight the urge to break something.
“I’ll take a break after we find Anika,” I snarl, springing back to my feet and brushing off my brother’s concern.
Somewhere in the back of my sleep-deprived brain, I know Gio’s right. I can’t keep effectively tracking her when I haven’t slept or eaten in days. But every time I slow down or close my eyes, fear for her safety has me back up and moving.
The only thing I’ve taken a momentary break for was to allow the doctor Sandro brought before me to take a blood sample for my DNA test.
Since then, I’ve been following tracks through the woods, interrogating bus drivers and train station attendants, terrorizing the local homeless population in my desperation to find someone—anyone—who can tell me where to find Anika.
She bought a ticket to Toronto. One of the ticket masters behind the counter could go so far as to confirm her identity from a picture, and that’s where the trail went cold.
That ticket was punched, which means she got on the train that night.
But I don’t see how she could have crossed the border into Canada when her passport is still safely tucked inside the safe in our bedroom.
Unless she has another one. The possibility that she’s been planning this all along, that she somehow managed to acquire a fake identity with the intention of leaving me behind is the most agonizing thought of all.
Not that she couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I am, in fact, the older brother of a man who terrorized her.
Not even that she decided she couldn’t love me.
But that she’s been pretending all this time, lulling me into a false sense of complacency so I wouldn’t see the signs until it was too late to follow her.
I could almost understand if she was disgusted by my true identity. But this feels like a betrayal that cuts so deep, I don’t know how it’s ever going to heal.
Still, I need to find her. I need to know she’s safe—even if it’s not with me.
“Miko, she’s not here,” Gio says gently. “Let’s go back home. You need a few hours of sleep, and then we can start fresh tomorrow.”
“You might be taking over as Don,” I growl through clenched teeth, shoving a finger in my brother’s face. “But don’t ever think you have a right to tell me when it’s time to stop looking for my wife.”
Gio raises his hands, taking a step back to disengage, and guilt immediately twists my gut. I know he’s just trying to help me.
“Sorry,” I mutter, massaging my temples with my fingers as I wrestle my temper back under control. “I think I just need some fresh air.”
Gio follows me silently as I exit the train station, raking in deep breaths of the rain-heavy air.
“Looking to buy a gift for a certain special someone? Something that says forever or maybe just please don’t tell my wife?” The jeering street vendor’s voice grates on my ears, and I cross my arms over my chest as I level him with a deadly stare.
I’m surprised to see the sight before me.
I thought he might be standing in front of a concession stand or even a little pop-up cart, but instead, the scrawny man has a single black velvet jewelry display case, perhaps a foot by two feet in size.
And as he opens the lid to give me a peek at his merchandise, my stomach plummets.
The rings were clearly stolen.
I can tell by the subtle, unique nicks and dings around the bands that come from a woman wearing her jewelry on the regular—not to mention, their styles are too eclectic to have been acquired through a legitimate source.
I know because our family has invested a lot of time and money in ensuring our merchandise could pass customs.
But that’s not what stops my heart in my chest. It’s the sizable solitaire emerald-cut diamond nestled right in the center of his display. I would recognize that rock anywhere. Reaching for the ring, I pluck it out, slipping it onto the tip of my pointer finger to confirm the size is right.
“Where did you get this?” I demand, turning my eyes on the vendor once more.
His saccharine smile fades as quick realization flickers behind his eyes, and in a flash, he slams the case closed to bolt in the opposite direction.
He doesn’t make it half a step before my fingers close around his throat, and I lift him bodily off the ground, slamming his back against the unyielding facade of Michigan Central Station.
He grunts as the air leaves his lungs, then drops the jewelry case as his hand scrabble desperately in an effort to free himself from my iron grip.
“Answer me!” I snarl, shoving him harder into the wall.
“Some woman in Chicago,” he chokes out, coughing and sputtering when I release his throat.
But I keep a firm grip on the front of his shirt as he rakes in desperate gasps of air.
“Did you hurt her?” I demand.
I suppose it’s possible Anika decided to sell the ring for cash. It would be a smart move, an easy way to hide her tracks, and I don’t want to kill the man if he didn’t realize he was doing something wrong.
But that thought flees as soon as I see the fear flash across his thin face.
“If you laid a single finger on my wife…” I warn, getting right up in his face as I pull a knife on him in broad daylight.
“I didn’t, I swear!” he cries, shaking visibly as he holds his hands up in surrender. “I just threatened her is all, but I swear I didn’t touch her. She was alive and completely unharmed when I left her.”
“Where?” I demand.
“W-well in the women’s bathroom of Union Station—Chicago. She had some cash and a train ticket in her bag, so I took it and left.”
“You better pray she’s still alive when I find her, or I’ll be coming back for you,” I warn.
Usually, I’d take his hand for daring to steal from my wife.
But considering we’re in a city that’s well outside the boundaries of Chiaroscuro territory—and I’m in a considerable rush—I’m going to let it slide this time. And if I change my mind, I can always find him.
Giving him one last powerful shove, I release him, jerking my head to single for Gio to follow.
The four-hour drive back to Chicago is the most painful of my life.
I usually like cars, and I have a fast one to get me back to the city in the shortest time possible.
But none of that is going to calm me down today.
Not until I find Anika.
Gio’s completely given up trying to talk me down. He sits quietly in the passenger seat, loosely gripping the grab handle as I take curves at eighty miles an hour.
Finally, we make it back to Union Station, and I start from square one once more, showing Anika’s picture to anyone and everyone I can get my hands on.
At last, I catch a break as a bushy-bearded homeless man squints out from beneath the wide brim of his filthy cap to get a closer look.
“Yeah, yeah, I might’a seen her,” he says, smacking his toothless gums. “Last night, I think it was. At the soup kitchen. But she didn’t stay long. Acted like a frightened little mouse, rushing in to inhale her food and vanishing just as quickly.”
“This was just last night?” I confirm, the panic that had formed a stranglehold around my heart lessening just a touch.
“Yes, sir,” he says with a nod.
Pulling a wad of cash from my pocket, I count out several hundred dollars. “Don’t spend this all at once,” I say. “And don’t spend it all on liquor.”
“Th-thank you!” the man sputters, staring slack-jawed at the exorbitant amount of money in his hand.
Heading down the street and around the corner from the train station, I keep my head on a swivel as I watch for any glimpse of Anika.
If he saw her just last night, Anika’s staying close to the train station—likely searching for a way to leave town now that she’s been relieved of money and a train ticket.
I can only hope nothing worse has happened to her since then.
Whether it’s because they took one look at me and decided I was bad news, or if the soup kitchen staff genuinely hadn’t seen Anika, I couldn’t tell, but I feel the frustration starting to mount again as we quickly slam into another dead end.
Gio drags me from the dingy nonprofit building just shy of allowing me to start interrogating the staff, and as irritated as I am with him for drawing a line, I know he’s right.
It takes a special kind of screwed in the head to hurt someone who feeds the homeless in their spare time.
But I’m getting desperate.
I’ve even called in favors with the officers I know at the police department. But so far, no one’s seen her.
“What am I going to do, Gio?” I ask, combing my fingers through my hair as my sense of urgency mounts. “I’m losing my mind.”
Gio’s sad eyes watch me with a depth of sympathy that rattles me to my bones. If anyone could understand what I’m going through, it’s him.
He lost the love of his life after she was taken by an enemy clan.
And I can see the dark, haunting truth in his eyes that he’s either smart or kind enough not to voice.
But that doesn’t make it any less obvious what he’s thinking.
Anika’s gone. Likely dead if we haven’t found her by now.
That’s when I hear her voice.
For a moment, I’m sure I’ve imagined it—the sweet sound of her softly pleading. “Please,” she whispers, the sound so faint I’m almost certain it’s in my head.
But I know it’s real when Gio cocks his head, his brows furrowing.
“Please, just let me go.”
God, if words could cause physical pain, hers would have left me dead on the ground. Because they echo the same thing she said to me all those weeks ago—when she first tried to run, but I wouldn’t let her.
“Anika,” I breathe, spinning in place as I search wildly for a sign of her.
I don’t find it.
But what I do find is the broad shoulders of a man with his back turned to me.
He’s almost invisible in the deep shadows of the alley between two buildings next to me, and I easily would have overlooked him—if he’d remained quiet.
“This’ll hurt a lot less if you stop struggling,” he promises.
Gio and I are down the alley in an instant, and my stomach turns as my eyes land on the scene before me.
The man—tall and bulky, dressed in dark clothes with a hoodie pulled up around his face—has his fingers wrapped around Anika’s throat, his other hand at the button of her jeans.
Anika, for her part, is doing an impressive job of trying to put space between them, but she’s not strong enough to move his considerable weight. And her face is slowly turning a shade of bluish purple as he cuts off the supply of oxygen to her head.
“Get your hands off my wife,” I hiss, and without waiting to see if he’ll oblige, I lock him in a chokehold, digging the point of my knife into the tender flesh protecting his kidney.
He releases her in an instant, and the second Anika is free, I jerk him backward, slamming him down onto the ground with such force that he rolls to the side and vomits.
I could kill him with my bare hands, I’m so full of rage.
But I only have one concern right now, so I leave the sick bastard for Gio to finish off, exchanging a silent nod with my brother before turning back to Anika.
The sounds of Gio’s boot connecting with soft flesh and the grunts of pain that follow are music to my ears. But that fades quickly into the background when I finally get a look at my wife.
Her filthy clothes and matted hair would suggest she’s been sleeping in a homeless shelter—or worse, on the streets themselves.
Guilt and horror lance through me as I think about what she’s been through in her effort to escape me.
But what cuts deepest is her reaction when she sees it’s me.
Her blue eyes are wide and round, her lips slightly parted in shock as every muscle in her body tenses.
Quivering, she stands frozen in place—looking terrified by the mere sight of me.