Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Blue
Light cuts through the blinds and lands across the sheets, highlighting the purple marks on my skin. My throat tightens, and my heart skips another beat. I stare at the bruises from his mouth and hands, all proof that last night happened.
Why is it so quiet?
The hairs on my neck rise.
I reach for my phone.
Noon?
I sit up in bed. The sheets slide down my body, exposing more bruises, and I press my palm to my stomach to steady myself. My heart hammers against my ribs, hard enough that my chest aches.
Why didn't Red call to wake me up?
A dozen missed calls and texts from Mom appear, but nothing from Red.
The room tilts. I refresh the screen, then scroll, but there's nothing from him.
I hit his name and put the phone to my ear. It rings twice before his voicemail picks up, and his calm, professional greeting cuts straight through me.
I hang up before the beep.
I shoot a text.
Me: Did you forget to call me?
I stand even though my brain hasn't caught up. I pace the living room barefoot, phone clutched so tight my fingers cramp. The floor is cool, and the air still smells like him, making my panic worsen.
I tell the empty room, "He's in a session. That's all."
It's his lunch hour.
I stare at the phone for a few minutes, then call again and get his voicemail. Panic grows, and I drag my hand through my hair and breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. My chest stutters, catching like fire in my lungs.
Red doesn't forget.
Why isn't he answering me?
Why am I panicking?
I pull on clothes without caring what they are and grab my keys, then stop in the doorway because leaving doesn't make sense yet.
Find proof that this isn't a big deal.
I stare around my living room.
Amy!
I call his office.
She answers on the second ring. "Dr. Mercer's office."
"Hi, it's Blue," I say, trying to sound normal. The word scrapes my throat on the way out.
"Hey!" she chirps.
"I'm looking for Red."
There's a pause. Paper rustles and her keyboard clicks. She answers, "He hasn't come in yet. Did you try his cell?"
My hand tightens around the phone. "Yes. Did he call you? Email? Anything?"
Another pause stretches. She finally admits, "No. I assumed he was with you?"
My pulse spikes. I sink onto the arm of the couch because my knees won't lock. "He didn't call you?"
She repeats, "No. I'm sorry."
"That's okay," I say, even though nothing about this is okay. "Thank you."
I hang up and stare at the wall across from me. The artwork blurs. My reflection in the glass looks wrong. My eyes are too wide. My skin looks pale under the bruises.
Think!
I dial Demi. It rings until it cuts to voicemail.
Her cheerful greeting sounds cruel today.
"Demi," I say when the beep hits, words tumbling over each other. "It's me. Call me back. Now. Please. Something's wrong."
I end the call and immediately dial Red again, but still get his voicemail.
My phone buzzes in my hand. My heart leaps so hard it hurts, then my gut sinks.
It's a text from Amy.
Amy: Let me know when you find him, and if I get ahold of him, I'll let you know, too.
Me: Okay.
My stomach twists. I pace again, faster this time, each step sharp and uneven. My thoughts won't line up. They crash into each other, loud and relentless.
Mikhail.
A chill runs down my spine.
He called this morning.
I call Demi again. When it goes straight to voicemail, I throw my phone onto the couch and press my hands to my face. My nails dig into my cheeks. I sink them in until my skin aches and bones feel like they might break.
"Think," I mutter. "Think."
My phone buzzes again. Demi's name flashes across the screen. I snatch it up so fast, my fingers slip. "Demi."
"Blue. Are you okay?"
My chest tightens. "I think Mikhail has Red!"
She exhales. "Why?"
I shake my head. "I don't know for sure, but he called this morning. Red didn't answer and left for work. He was supposed to call and wake me up, but he never did. Amy hasn't seen or heard from him. Mikhail has to have him!"
Silence fills the line.
"Demi!"
"I'll call you back." She hangs up the phone before I can object.
Waiting turns my skin restless, like my body doesn't know where to settle.
I pace until the floor feels too small, my knuckles hurt from clutching the phone, and every second stretches longer than the last. My thoughts circle the same fear without mercy.
Every imagined outcome lands heavier than the one before it.
Red warned me this would happen.
Maybe I'm overreacting.
I'm not.
The screen stays dark, and the silence presses in loud enough to drown out everything except the certainty that whatever comes next is going to change everything.
Please be okay, Red.
My phone rings again. Before the second ring can finish, my thumb slips against the glass. "Demi."
"I don't have anything concrete. Nickolai isn't answering my texts or calls, nor is Mikhail." Her voice drops, and she adds, "But I'm not surprised."
"Why?"
She hesitates a moment, then admits, "We got into it last night."
"The three of you?"
"Yeah."
My pulse ticks up. "Are you with both of them?"
Her voice wavers. "It's complicated. I'll tell you later. I'll keep calling, and when I find something out, I'll let you know."
My shoulders sag, then lock right back up. I fret, "Red never misses work. He never forgets to call me. This isn't him. If Mikhail has him..." I squeeze my eyes shut, not adding that my father has to be involved.
She acknowledges, "I know. But I need a minute to push. Don't call your dad yet."
I bark out a laugh that doesn't sound like mine. "That's your advice."
"It's not advice. It's a pause. Five minutes. Let me try again."
My voice shakes. "If my father has him..." I can't finish it.
"Give me a few minutes," Demi says, and the line goes dead.
I stare at my phone like it might light back up out of pity.
The silence presses in on me, thick and heavy.
Red's scent still lingers in the air, clean and warm, and my body reacts to it before my brain can stop it.
My thighs ache. My throat tightens. The memory of his mouth at my collarbone flashes sharp and unwanted.
I drag my hand down my face and pull in a breath through my nose, then another. I put my head between my knees, begging for my body to cooperate.
He told me to breathe when I started spiraling last night. He held my jaw and made me slow down.
He said he'd wake me up.
He didn't.
Demi calls back.
I demand, "What did you find out?"
She exhales, slow and controlled. Hurt fills her voice. "Nikolai tried to lie to me."
My stomach drops. "Tried?"
She assures, "I didn't let him. I cornered him. I asked the same questions six different ways. I told him I already knew."
My fingers curl around the edge of the counter until the marble bites into my skin. "Demi."
"Mikhail had orders to pick him up."
The room spins. I catch myself on the counter, breath stuttering in my chest. I ask a question I already know the answer to, which makes my stomach sour further. "Orders from who?"
"Your father."
A sound crawls out of my throat.
Demi continues, "He wouldn't give me a location or tell me where Red was taken or who else is involved. He swore he doesn't know the other details."
My vision blurs. I blink hard, and tears spill. My jaw locks. I drag a breath in through my nose, sharp and uneven.
Demi blurts out, "Nikolai said to have you go to Uncle Maksim."
"Maksim?"
"Yes. That's all he would say. But he said he can stop it if you get to him in time."
I gasp. My eyes flick to the mirror. I recognize the woman staring back. She looks wrecked. Unstable. Dangerous in the wrong way. She's the woman who appears when I'm spiraling.
Keep it together.
"I'm going," I say.
Demi replies, "Good. Text me when you get there."
I don't hang up. I put it on speaker and dial my dad.
It goes directly to voicemail.
My throat tightens until it aches. I call Mom.
She answers on the first ring. "Blue."
"Where is he"? I demand.
"Who?"
"Don't act like you don't know, Mom. Where did Dad take Red?"
She inhales sharply. Silence pops, then she asks with fear in her voice, "What are you talking about?"
My laugh comes out brittle and wrong. "You don't know?"
She assures, "No. But fill me in."
"You're sure you don't know?" I push, angry and scared, my tone louder.
"Your father doesn't tell me everything. You know that."
My fingers press into the bruise at my throat without thinking. Pain sparks and grounds me just enough to keep standing. I close my eyes, stating, "He's going to hurt him. Probably kill him."
"I'm coming over. Right now."
"Don't bother. I'm leaving," I reply.
"Where are you going?"
"To stop this," I say and hang up, rushing out of my apartment.
She tries to call me back, but I send her to voicemail.
I jog down the hall, lunge out the parking garage door, and run to my car.
I slide into my car and grip the steering wheel until my hands ache.
Tunnel vision returns the same as when I'm spiraling.
Somehow, I fight through that and my racing heart.
My breath continues to come out in short bursts, and every exhale feels like pins scraping my lungs.
It takes me twenty minutes to get to Uncle Maksim's penthouse. I park in a loading zone, race through security, and type in my code in the elevator.
It hums as it climbs, the numbers blinking too slowly for the speed my thoughts are moving.
My reflection stares back at me from the mirrored walls, eyes too bright, skin pale, mouth set like I'm bracing for impact.
I press my back against the wall and force my feet to stay planted because pacing inside a steel box won't get me there any faster.
The doors open into quiet luxury. Soft lighting, Italian marble, and an exceptional view of Lake Michigan and the Chicago skyline appear. I step farther into the penthouse, my pulse thudding so hard I swear it has its own sound.
Aspen looks up from the kitchen island, a glass of water in her hand. The moment her eyes land on me, her posture shifts. She sets the glass down and rushes over to me. "Blue?" What's wrong?"
The weight I've been carrying crashes straight through my chest. My legs wobble, and I grab the back of a chair to keep myself upright.
"Where's Uncle Maksim?" I say, my voice breaking on his name.
"Maksim," Aspen calls out, then grabs my hands. "Come sit down." She steers me to the sofa and repeats in a louder tone, "Maksim."
He appears, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, his crystal-blue eyes sharp, and his expression full of concern. "Blue. What's going on?"
All the emotions I've been holding together come rushing out. I sob, "They took him. My dad took him."
Aspen's eyes widen. "Who?"
I choke out, "Red. They took him this morning."
Horror fills Aspen's expression. She glances at Maksim.
His jaw tightens. He steps closer. "Who took him?"
"Mikhail. On my father's orders." Hot tears stream down my cheeks.
The room stills. The air grows thicker, heavier, as if bracing for impact.
"How do you know?" Maksim asks.
"I just do. Please. Get him. Don't let my dad kill him!" I beg.
Aspen swears under her breath. "Jesus."
"Please. Bring him back to me," I plead.
Maksim studies my face, his gaze sharp and assessing.
Aspen moves closer, sliding her arm around my shoulders. "Try to breathe."
I shake my head. "I can't. Please, Uncle Maksim. Tell me where they are, or please go get him! Dad will kill him."
Maksim's eyes darken. "Your father doesn't do anything without a reason. What has this Red done?"
I cry out, "I love him. Please."
"Why does Adrian want to kill him?" Maksim pushes.
"Be-because he loves me."
Aspen softly says, "Maksim."
Why hasn't he left yet?
I blurt out, "I'm pregnant. Don't make my baby grow up without a father!" The words drop into the room and detonate.
Aspen freezes. Her breath catches, sharp and audible. "You're pregnant?"
I dig the lie further. "Yes!"
Maksim's expression morphs. His shoulders square. His stance shifts. His focus locks on me like I've flipped a switch. He asks, "When did Adrian find out?"
I swallow, my throat tight. "I don't know if he found out. But if Red dies, my baby will grow up without a father. And I love Red. He...he keeps me from hurting myself." Fresh tears of shame drip off my chin.
Aspen grips me tighter. "What do you mean you hurt yourself?"
I shake my head. "It doesn't matter. All you need to know is that I need Red. For lots of reasons. Please. Don't let him die, Uncle Maksim."
His eyes stay on me.
"Please. My baby needs its father!" The lie sits heavy on my tongue, but if it saves Red's life, then it's worth it.
Aspen turns toward Maksim. She orders, "Go."
He glances at her.
"Now, Maksim. Bring Red back here," she demands.
He gazes down at me for another moment, then nods. "I'll try my best."
Aspen tugs me closer. "You're safe here."
"Please. Hurry," I sob.
Maksim walks toward the elevator and instructs, "Don't go anywhere." The elevator dings, he steps inside it, and the doors close.
I fold forward, my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands. My breath comes fast and uneven, my chest burning with every inhale.
Aunt Aspen crouches in front of me. "Blue. Look at me."
I don't want to. I'm afraid she'll see the truth written all over my face.
She waits until I lift my head.
She firmly asserts, "You're not alone. No matter what happens next."
I nod, but the guilt claws up my throat. I lied to my aunt and uncle.
I lied to save the man I love.
If Red survives, I'll deal with the fallout. If he doesn't, none of it will matter.
I sink back into the chair and stare at the elevator, my heart pounding, my mind racing, my body suspended in a moment that refuses to move forward.
Please get to him in time.
Please don't let my father win.
Please let the lie be enough.