Chapter 31 Callum
CALLUM
The gates swing open and my driver pulls through without stopping.
I'm finally home.
Three hours of sitting in that stale interrogation room, pretending to give a shit about their procedural bullshit while the detectives tried to bond and joke around with me.
Either way, paperwork says it was a homeless woman who trespassed and slept in my building. She tried to stay warm and started a fire by accident.
Whether that's true or not isn't my concern. It's enough to close the case, satisfy our insurance claims, and be done with it.
I get out of the car and make my way inside.
I walk through the front door and pause for a moment, not meaning to. I listen for her voice, but I don't hear it.
I walk through the main floor, checking the sitting room, the library, the living room. All empty.
The kitchen smells faintly of coffee, but the pot is clean. The counters are wiped, and there's no dishes in the sink.
My pulse kicks up a notch. It hasn't been like this since I unlocked her door. She's normally around someplace. As a matter of fact, she normally greets me, which is something I'm starting to like but haven't told her yet.
I pass by the small sitting room near the back where she sometimes curls up with a book. The chair is empty, with the blanket folded neatly over the arm.
My chest tightens in a way I do not like.
I head back toward the stairs, passing one of the housekeepers in the hall.
"You seen Zaria?" I ask.
She stops, clutching a stack of folded linens against her chest. "No, sir, not today."
I stare at her for a moment, waiting for more, hopeful she'll remember something, but she just blinks at me.
"You sure?"
"Yes, sir. I haven't seen her since yesterday evening."
I nod, and she walks away.
I head up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
My room first. I shove the door open, scanning the space.
The bed is nearly made and the curtains are open, letting the sun shine in. I can tell my room's been cleaned already.
I turn and walk straight into her room.
The bed is made and the bathroom door is ajar, and when I step inside, the towels are dry, the mirror spotless.
My chest tightens. Something's not right.
I turn back toward the bedroom, my eyes sweeping the space.
That's when I see it.
A piece of paper, folded, sitting on the dresser.
I walk over and snatch it up, unfolding it quickly.
The handwriting is careful, deliberate.
I have to go home. Don't try to find me. I won't come back to you.
For a second, the room tilts.
The words blur and sharpen again as my vision goes red around the edges.
I read it again.
Then again.
My hands crush the paper into a tight ball.
Rage surges up from somewhere deep and violent.
I drag my hands along the top of the dresser and knock over the lamp, sending it crashing to the floor.
"MOTHERFUCKER!" I yell into the empty room. The word rips out of me, jagged and raw.
Just like that. Back to him. The monster. The one who's trying to destroy my family and so-called ruined her life.
I have been manipulated.
The realization lands with sickening clarity.
I have been so stupid.
She fucking played me long enough to get me to unlock the door so she could plan her escape.
The weeks. The soft looks. The careful way she stayed just inside the lines I drew. The way she made herself small, harmless, grateful.
She needed me to trust her. Needed me to believe she wasn't a threat.
And I did. I fucking did.
All of it calculated. All of it a performance.
Jesus Christ, I say, taking a few steps back.
And last night.
Last night, she made me a fucking meal. Candles. Colcannon. My favorite whiskey.
Then she got on her knees and sucked my dick until I could barely think straight.
She wore me out. Softened me up.
Made me tired, made me weak.
She made me careless.
And while I was at that warehouse this morning, while I was dealing with detectives and paperwork and the fucking ruins of my property, she was running.
I pace the room and kick a lamp over.
The warehouse.
They burned it to get me out of the house.
To pull me away from her. To give her an opening.
She probably knew.
She probably fucking told them.
God damn it. I let her sleep in my bed.
My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat.
I slam my palm against the wall, the impact sending a jolt of pain up my arm.
But how the fuck did she get past my men?
There are guards at every exit. Cameras on every corner of the property.
Someone let her leave.
Someone's going to fucking die for this.
I spin on my heel and storm out of the room, my footsteps echoing down the hall.
"TOMMY!"
I find him at the top of the stairs, mid-conversation with one of the other men.
He straightens when he sees me coming.
"Boss."
I grab him by the collar and shove him against the wall.
"Lock down the house," I say. "Pull all security tapes. Fucking find her."
His eyes go wide. "Who?"
"Zaria!" I roar. "She's gone. She fucking ran, and someone let her out."
Tommy's face pales. "I didn't see her leave. I swear."
"Then check the fucking footage!" I shove him toward the stairs. "Now!"
He stumbles, catches himself on the railing, and bolts down the steps.
I turn to the other guard, who's frozen in place, eyes darting between me and the stairs.
"No one comes in. No one goes out. Understand?"
He nods quickly. "Yes, sir."
"Move."
He's gone before I finish the word.
I stand there in the hallway, my chest heaving, my hands shaking.
She's gone.
She fucking left me.
I go over her note in my mind, especially the last part.
Don't try to find me.
My lip curls.
She thinks I won't come for her or her father?
She thinks I'll just let her walk away.
Let her crawl back to the Order and disappear.
No.
She doesn't get to decide this.
She doesn't get to run.
I own her now. Whether she knows it or not.
Moving downstairs, I see Tommy with an iPad.
"Boss."
"Did you pull the footage?" I ask.
"Yes," he says and hands me the iPad. "Here."
My fingers fly across the screen, scrolling through camera feeds.
The timeline starts at 7:42 a.m.
It's her.
She's walking down the main hall, dressed in jeans and a dark shirt, her hair pulled back. She's moving fast and looking around constantly.
She disappears around the corner toward the kitchen.
I switch cameras.
The kitchen feed shows her slipping through the back door.
I check the timestamp.
7:44 a.m.
This has to be right after I left for the warehouse.
My jaw clenches.
She fucking waited for me to leave.
I switch to the exterior cameras, tracking her movement across the back lawn.
She's running now, her arms pumping at her sides.
She reaches the wall, scales it, hops over the fence, and disappears into the treeline.
"Looks like she went into the woods, sir," Tommy says.
"Send men now," I say, handing the iPad back to him. "Scour every inch of those woods. I want her found."
"Yes, sir.”
"And Tommy?"
"Yeah?"
"If anyone helped her leave, I want them brought to me. Alive."
"Understood."
He walks away, and the only thing keeping me together is that I know I'll find her, and when I do, she's going to wish she never fucked with me.
I turn around and head to my office. I need a god damn drink.
As I walk down the hall, I hear my name.
"Cal."
"What!" I yell, turning around to see my mom and Keira standing there.
"Shit, well fucking hi to you too," Keira says.
"Damn, sorry. Hi, Mom," I say and walk over and kiss her cheek. "I didn't know you were coming."
"Remember last week? You said to bring her over for lunch on Wednesday?"
"Oh, yes. I forgot. It's…" I pause for a second. I don't want to even get into the shit I'm dealing with.
"Is this a bad time, dear? We can reschedule," my mom says.
"No, please. Come with me. I'll get Linda to make us something," I say, turning around. "I could use the distraction."