Chapter 19 #2
“You lost something, Zayden?” he asks, too calm for someone who was just stammering his words when talking to Safra.
Elijah lingers in the door frame for a while, expecting an answer he will never get.
There’s something about that kid I just can’t seem to figure out.
He’s in places he shouldn’t be. Too aware of things and asking too many god damn questions.
I overturn glasses, cushions, anything that might hide it, and find nothing. It’s gone.
And something tells me… this is not good.
Elijah finally leaves, and I feel like allowing myself to truly search around.
And I mean like dropping to my hands and knees while I look underneath the bed, the couch, and anywhere where it could have fallen.
The door clicks shut behind him, and the noise outside swells—Velarium is unraveling at the seams. From inside the room, I can hear the panic surging through the club.
Everyone who’s anyone is currently running around shouting orders.
Pure and utter chaos ripples through Velarium.
Voices collide, footsteps pound against the marble floor, and the stench of panic lingers thick in the air.
I drag a hand down my face, sweat spreading through my pores. It’s no use.
I’ve searched through every space in this room, and I can’t find it.
But who could have taken it? Sure, it had to be between Safra and Fabiola.
There’s no way I dropped it before we got here.
After a few curses and a little bit more panic searching, I step out of the room, having given up on the USB, the weight of the loss pressing against my ribs.
I can’t help but chew on the corner of my nail, wondering what will happen next.
Walking down the hall feels ominous… It's empty.
The red door is propped open, no elites in sight.
I’m sure they are hiding like the cockroaches they are.
And even though I shouldn’t care about the fate of the man who raped and abused me before passing me off to his son as a gift, I find myself heading toward the main meeting room, the lounge where I’m sure I’ll find him.
“Ezra…” His voice cuts through the silence of the hall. “What do we know so far?”
Ezra groans loudly before punching his fist down onto the table. “I don’t know, the cops were there before our people. They won’t talk.”
Peter paces around the room, hand threading through his hair, glasses dangling from his hand as he bites the end, like it’s the only thing keeping him sane.
“Thiago, I need your father’s firm working on sealing anything that can be damning. Find out what the cops have gathered so far. And for fuck's sake—where is Wyatt?”
The room hums with tension, but I don’t step inside.
I linger in the doorway, unseen and listening to the empire crack. My eyes dart down the hall to the red door that belongs to Mr. J, and I wonder if Nico is there? I pull out my phone to text him, then stop myself from doing so when I hear his voice echo down the hall alongside Elijah.
“Zayden,” he says when he spots me, relief flooding his voice.
“Nico,” I repeat the sentiment, offering a small smile as my best friend closes the distance between us.
Elijah lingers, his head shifting from one direction to the other. “Have ya’ll seen Wyatt?”
Nico shrugs before replying, “No.”
I do the same.
“Do you think he’s behind this?”
What?
The question is straightforward; Elijah plants the seed of doubt in both our minds.
Nico’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t answer.
Though I can tell that wheels are turning inside his head.
I can feel the tension coil between us, the kind that doesn’t fade when the conversation ends.
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes again. A single message.
No name… just anonymous.
I swipe it open, and what comes next makes a shiver run down my spine, and my blood turns to ice. A photo fills the screen, a picture of none other than Fernanda—alive and well. Along with a message that’s enough to make my stomach drop to my ass and bile to climb up my throat.
Anonymous:
Looks like the elite aren’t the only ones keeping secrets… Naughty boy!! So many skeletons inside your closet.
I have to force my mouth to stay shut as my vision tunnels. The noise around me fades until all I can hear is the blood rushing to my ears. I stare at the image, thumb trembling over the screen.
Nico looks at me with worry, his hand clasping around my shoulder. “Zayden, you good, bro?”
Clearing my throat, I shove my phone back into my pocket. The cold is now biting into my flesh.
“I need some clothes,” I say, looking down at myself. I’m wearing nothing but satin shorts.
Nico nods, realizing he also should be dressed.
When it dawns on me that he was also at the auction, and given the bloody state in his mind, I can tell he didn’t have a good time.
That feeling sticks to me, knowing all the while he’s drowning in pain, I’m blissfully dickmatized every time Thiago slips inside me.
I welcome his abuse… And right now, I couldn’t hate myself more for it.
From inside the lounge, I can hear the tension in their voices as they continue to talk over the plan for trying to figure out what the hell happened on the cliff.
How the fuck did Allison end up dead, and two donors are in critical condition?
Just as Thiago steps out the door, I turn away and make my way out the main door.
Thankfully, he doesn’t follow. The night air hits me like a slap, and I instantly regret walking back to the dorms when my phone buzzes again.
The urge to chuck into the ocean is very hard to ignore, but still, I dig into my pocket and look down at the screen.
This time there’s no picture. Just another anonymous message with a location.
Anonymous:
Building C, Apt. 304.
My fucking dorm.
The wind howls down the cliffside, cold enough to sting. And suddenly, I know that whatever’s waiting for me inside isn’t mercy. It’s the beginning of the end.
1. “Let me see you.”