Chapter 24 – Elijah
24
ELIJAH
I was killing myself at boxing with Niko; since the beginning of this week, the routine was the same: training, Alonzo, my meetings, and Zanae.
The problem is, I could never calm down until I saw her eyes.
I kept for the longest time the necklace of my mother but only the star. I had it in my pocket, never letting it go. But the thing is when Zanae spent her time with me at the penthouse, she had this weird habit to zone out looking at the stars in particular. I had one with me at any time, but I couldn’t stop looking at her gazing at them.
That fucking monster wanted to come out, he was never satisfied until he had his dose of poison— that woman who feared my touch because of that asshole Alonzo who must have trigged memories in her mind.
I can’t imagine what she had to endure when I wasn’t here to protect her. When I fucking failed.
But even hitting him was no longer enough, and Niko forbade me from killing him until we had some useful information.
So, I hammered away at the gym.
Yesterday she didn’t sleep at home.
I didn’t get my fix of her, and I was in withdrawal, like a fucking junkie.
Niko’s phone rang while he was grabbing some water outside the ring. I scrolled through the message on his phone, reading it aloud for him to hear.
“Miranda needs to talk to one of us immediately. A woman came to her at the cafe asking for information about Zanae, and she hasn’t responded to her calls since last night when you took her back to her father’s house.”
Niko set his water bottle down with a sigh. He had that look on his face—the one that screams ‘this is messed up’—and you could tell he was contemplating the worst-case scenario.
“This doesn’t smell good, Eli.”
And I felt it. That freaking thing in my chest, that ball that prevented me from breathing normally, the worry, something I hadn’t felt in years.
The worst part was that I also felt the anger, the dark urges that crossed my mind, destruction and death if something happened to her.
When we arrived at Miranda’s, she seemed anxious and stressed, pacing in the room. With a shaky voice, and teary eyes she starts sharing the details of her conversation with a woman asking very personal questions about Zanae.
“I called her, texted her, but she never answered. And she always does.”
She’s not the type to disappear without answering.
I try to call her, text her, nothing works.
“I’ll find her,” I say looking at Miranda. “Niko, start reaching out to any contacts we have to see if they heard about something involving her father. Miranda, stay here in case Zanae contacts you or comes back.”
I don’t know if she’s safe, if she’s hurt, who took her; we had nothing. I need to find her more than anything; something happened, and I’m not going to just sit there and search by calling people.
I’m going to turn this town upside down and unleash hell on earth, if necessary, with everyone on it.
She’s fucking alone somewhere; I feel that ball in my chest growing and about to explode. This war between my mind telling me to stop thinking about her and my heart trying to remind me that it’s starting to beat again because of her was too much.
My heart has won, and the urge to protect her from anything dangerous, even her own demons is consuming me.
I received a call at the same time from one of my men at the garage who told me that this son of a bitch Alonzo was no longer there.
It was him for sure; I should have finished him off, destroyed him, not even leaving his ashes near her, damn it.
My motorcycle speeds through the streets in search of Zanae, I can’t help but feel the fury growing inside me.
My phone buzzed. Nikolai’s name flashed on the screen, and I answered hurriedly, shouting over the wind, “Where the fuck is she?”
“I’m working on it. What happened?”
“This bastard of Alonzo. He got away with someone’s help and took her with him. Oskar sent me a picture of the empty garage where he was, and a letter was on the ground with Zanae’s picture, with a message on it. It said he’s settling a score. I should’ve killed him when I had the chance or let her do that. FUCK!”
My fists clench around the handles of my bike, and I’m fighting against the surge of emotions that made me want to throw up.
What the fuck is that?
Why is my heart beating like I’m going to die?
The night stretches before me in a blurry red mess. I have to find her quickly. Her life is between my hands, and I won’t let it slip from my fingers again.
“We’ll find her. I’m still tracking her phone. Give me a moment, Eli.” Niko’s voice echoes through the phone again, “I’ve got a location. An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts near the east side. I’m sending it to you right now. Go, and I’ll meet you there with my car.”
I end the call quickly. My bike’s roar rips through the long streets as I race to the coordinates Niko sent me. I’m going full speed, and it feels like I’m flying through the city scenery.
I swear to God, she better be okay.
The warehouse looms ahead, a shadowy structure, old and smelly. I have just arrived, entering through the creaky doors. The metal walls echo with the soft sounds of droplets falling from the ceiling. My gaze searches the area, looking for her everywhere I can lay my eyes on.
Where are you, Milaya?
I catch a shadow at the end of the corridor, and approach, slowly. With each step, my heart swelled with boundless fury. The clearer his face became, the more my mind calculated the most grotesque and atrocious ways to end his life.
Alonzo is lying on a sofa as if he was waiting for someone, clearly not me. Fucking red everywhere.
I approach him and crouch behind him, whispering in his ear, “Where is she?”
Alonzo turns around and yells, clearly drunk and wasted, “Oh, the Pakhan cares about someone? How touching to see you be this sweet, not like when you opened my fucking chest! Right?”
I want to break everything in him, and it still wouldn’t be enough to calm me. “I should have ripped your heart out, Alonzo. Now, tell me where she is, or I’ll carve you open again, cut artery by artery, and crush your heart, feeling it burst between my fucking fingers.”
“No need for threats, Dyavol ; I didn’t touch her this time; she’s in the basement, tied up. Just don’t—it wasn’t my idea, it was hers, I told her that you’re a fucking psycho motherfucker, but she told me that she would take care of my protection.”
This time.
He fucking said, this—time.
He looks up at me, stressed, scared, fucking terrified, and adds, “Are you going to kill me?”
Darkness creeps into my eyes when I seize him by the neck, my grip suffocating. Who the fuck was that ‘she’ he was talking about?
“Oh, I won’t kill you. I’m going to make you wish for death,” I promise.
Knocking him out and pushing him on the ground, I start descending into the depths of the warehouse.
The air is colder here.
A brown door appears at the end of the staircase, and I swing it open.
These fucking cold sweats again.
1-2-3.
There’s a faint light.
4-5-6.
A silhouette.
7-8-9.
A small breath.
10 .
Amber eyes.
My heart skips a beat when I see my Zanae bound and battered but looking at me with weary eyes filled with relief and gratitude.
“You’re here,” she whispers, her voice so low, so hurt.
“ Zanae …”
I’ll always come after her.
I feel a surge of protectiveness, ferocity even, toward her. I know that her health was deteriorating due to her hypoglycemia, and I know for sure this fucker didn’t give her anything to eat.
“Nikolai will be here soon. Hold on, Zanae.”
I anxiously awaited Nikolai’s arrival to get her home.
She manages a weak smile, marking her little dimples that I fucking adore, “I almost got him with the knife, but he drugged me.”
She’s so beautiful. I love her eyes so much that if I had to die, I think remembering them would be the last image that could bring me peace.
They always kept me safe.
My clenched jaw and furrowed brow betrayed my rage, “I’ll make him pay for every moment you’ve suffered.”
She places a trembling hand on my cheek, which tenses at the touch of her fingers, awakening every nerve in me like fireworks. Her hand is cold, but I still feel warmth in her touch. “I know you will.”
Before I can respond, the distant sound of Niko’s car echoes outside. I hold Zanae, so angry but relieved at the same time.
She’s fine. She isn’t hurt.
I saved her this time.
Nikolai approaches with concern etched on every line of his face. He reaches out to touch her forehead, smiling to reassure her. “Fuck, Zanae, what happened?”
She leans on me for support, and I lift her up in my arms, “We’ll talk later. Just get me out of here.”
I take her out of the basement and place her in the car, carefully, as if she could shatter under my hands.
The drive to the penthouse was filled with silence. I was gripping the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles turned white. Nikolai, glances between us, and I think that he understood immediately the change in my eyes; the dark obsession is being consumed by the desire to keep her safe, but he didn’t say anything.
And I appreciate that, because I don’t even know what to think.
A few minutes later we finally reached the penthouse, and I carried her out of the car, gently placing her on the couch. “Rest.”
She’s exhausted and weak, but even a small amount of color returns to her eyes. “I’m in good hands,” she smiles, sadly.
“You are, now.”
I leave them alone because I have to make sure Alonzo is still securely bound in the basement after sending one of my men there. After my call, I went back to where my Zanae was resting on the couch. Nikolai is at her side, trying to make her smile.
I approached her one last time before going out. “I won’t be long.”
She just nods. And I caress her cheek, unable to control myself, and promise, “I’m coming back to you.”