Chapter 27 - Ivan
With the usual traffic ahead of me while I moved through the city, I played the radio quietly while my fingers drummed against the steering wheel, wondering how Daria's buyer situation was going.
I had been so caught up with work that I didn't have the chance to call her as I planned. Half tempted to then, I decided against it, aware that I would be home in less than ten minutes. Then she'd be able to tell me all about it.
Regardless of whether she managed to sell anything, I was still proud of her, and I wanted her to know that. And I had more than one idea of how I could prove it to her.
Briefly lost in thought, mauling over my options, the music went quiet as a call came through and lit up the front display of my car.
Noting it was one of our employees, my brows pinched while I reached forward and accepted the call.
"Yeah?"
A trace of concern and duty laced his voice. "Sir, I was just told Rurik Kuzmin was spotted not too far from the downtown core...the closest unit was deployed, but he managed to slip away before he could be contained."
The words registered, and a flash of irritation sparked within me. "What? How could that happen?"
He took a moment before calmly explaining, "He used the busy streets to his advantage, stopping our guys from confronting him in front of pedestrians to avoid casualties. They're out tracking him now, but so far, he hasn't been seen again."
Gritting my teeth as more of that anger settled in, aware that Kuzmin was getting too close for comfort, I forced myself to keep it in for now. "How long ago did this happen?"
"It's been at least two hours since he was last seen..."
Two hours. He could be anywhere in the city at the time, even if he was still alive.
"Damn it..." I muttered, keeping my eyes on the road. With barely contained rage, I snapped back, "Send more men out to broaden the search, and make sure he can't slip away again. We need eyes on him before he pulls any bullshit."
"I'm on it...any updates will be sent to you."
Hardly holding back that blinding wrath bubbling beneath the surface, I ended the call and immediately found Daria's contact. I pressed the button and listened while it rang.
The longer I waited, leaving me to my thoughts, I couldn't help but think about what Daria had told me about her brother some weeks ago...how he messaged her. How he was recruiting her help again.
The paranoid part of me couldn't avoid the idea I didn't even want to consider, regardless of how I tried to convince myself otherwise.
There was no way...
She was the one who came to me about it, telling me all about the texts she had been avoiding. Surely, she wouldn't give that information up just to turn around and fall back into his schemes.
I refused to believe it.
But when I reached her voicemail, a bad feeling settled in my chest.
As much as I didn't want to believe it, the concept wasn't entirely crazy. Rurik had controlled her for so long that there was a chance at least part of her could've been conditioned to obey him no matter what.
While she seemed content with me, able to do what she wanted, who was to say she wouldn't follow her brother again upon hearing he was free?
No part of me wanted to even entertain the idea, but I also knew I couldn't count her out just yet.
She had fooled me before, and there was a chance she was just that good at it...
After calling and not hearing from her again, I tried Dom's cell, only to get that same radio silence.
The longer I went without any answers to what was happening, the more unsettled and irritated I felt.
Eventually, pulling up to the house, feeling completely on edge, I barely turned the car off before hurrying inside and looking around. I called her name, waiting for any kind of response, but I didn't hear anything.
Running up the stairs, I checked the home studio and then went to the bedroom. Again, there was no sign of her, and my heart sank lower and lower the longer it went on.
Before I could leave the room again, I glanced at the closet, seeing that some things looked out of place.
Upon closer inspection, some hangers were empty, and a few of her personal items were gone. Glancing over at the stack of suitcases, it was obvious at least one was gone.
My chest ached as that dread seemed to consume me at once, and I did my best to hold it together.
But when I reached the rack full of sweaters, I rifled through them, not finding her favorite one—the god-awful cheap one I couldn't wrap my head around why she liked it so much. But she never traveled without it. And that fact alone felt like a stab to the chest.
It was gone, and so was she...trying to fight that paranoia became impossible the longer I went without being able to reach her.
The more that silence surrounded me, the less I could ignore the nagging feeling in my gut that I had been deceived again. That I let her in just to be double-crossed in the end.
My blood ran hot while I tried her phone again and again, only ever reaching her voicemail before trying again. Each time, I found myself getting lost further and further within the idea of Daria biding her time before her brother could escape and make his way to her, pulling her back into his charade.
I tried to focus on how angry she seemed at the idea of him even reaching out to her again, but in the throes of confusion and fury, I saw how that could've easily been her acting.
As far as I knew, she was good at it. If Mexico had been any indicator, manipulation came easy to her.
I didn't want to give Olivia's claim too much credit, but all signs seemed to point to it being the truth.
By the time I hit just under one hundred attempted calls within an hour, I had no choice but to believe Daria really did screw me over. That she never really left her brother's clutches.
Pacing the living room, texting my brothers in between trying her phone a dozen more times, that dread turned into a deep feeling of sickness, all while wondering how I fell for it again.
Things had been going so well between us...we were getting along even better than before, we were establishing real trust, and we were preparing for the arrival of our child.
It seemed impossible that she could've faked it all, but at the same time, I didn't doubt her in Mexico either, and look where that got me...
Wrapped up in that bitterness, I dropped my phone on the back of the couch and leaned against the frame while I held my head in my hands.
The tug of war in my head kept me in constant confusion and doubt, torn between wanting to trust her and falling into that cynicism I was so used to maintaining.
More than anything, I wanted to believe Daria was innocent. I wanted to believe that she had been nothing but her brother's unwilling puppet before.
I wanted to believe the woman I fell for so completely didn't deceive me all over again.
Unaware of how long I stood there, caught up in my own mind, I lifted my head the moment my phone buzzed.
My eyes widened at seeing her name across my screen, barely able to grab the phone fast enough.
Despite the jump of my heart in my chest, feeling vaguely relieved, that hope froze the second I noticed she had sent an attachment...not anything written. No explanation.
Unable to wait, I clicked the message to expand it, and at the sight I took in, my heart dropped.
There she was...my wife...the woman I wrongfully accused of lying and faking everything from the last few months...unconscious and tied up.
Struggling to digest what I was seeing and understand that it was real, a moment passed before another text followed that simply read:
- R
That was all it took to trigger the unfettered, blinding rage inside me.
He had her. He took my wife and had her tied up like she was nothing more than something to be transported on his whim.
Like she was a betting chip and not a woman...not his own sister.
In a blur, I was on the move, calling everyone I could while I hurried back to the car with only one thought and purpose on my mind.
It didn't matter what it took...I had to find her.
I had to get my wife back.