3. Sebastian
CHAPTER 3
SEBASTIAN
I rritation pricks my skin. The world blurs around me as I force myself through the motions. I tug on the first thing I can find, a pair of jeans, followed by one of my football sweatshirts. All my attention funnels into figuring out where the hell Elyse is.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to call her father right this second and demand to know where the hell she is. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I’m not one-hundred percent certain she didn’t leave on her own.
I can’t imagine her leaving, though, not after the night we shared.
Elyse wanted to be with me. She was happy, content even. Unless I imagined it all. No. She wouldn’t have left the bed unless she was provoked. I repeat the thought back to myself, but doubt still finds a way to seep into the cracks of my mind.
Fuck. If she left by her own choice, disappearing into the night, because she thought she could get away from me… I don’t know what I’ll do. The dark, fucked up places my thoughts go in that instant terrify me. When it comes to Elyse, her safety, and keeping her at my side, there isn’t anything I won’t do. No one I won’t destroy, or kill, if it comes to that.
And no amount of begging and pleading for my forgiveness will save her from my wrath.
Even as the idea of punishment rolls around my head, I can't ignore the gnawing in my gut that something else is wrong. Elyse is smart. She wouldn’t leave, and I can’t make myself believe otherwise. If my hunch is correct, I’ll do everything in my fucking power to get Ely back and destroy the person who took her. There are always consequences. And in this case...deadly ones.
Before that, I need confirmation—proof—and the security camera footage will give me what I want. If I can see what happened, then maybe I can piece the rest of the puzzle together.
Pausing in the kitchen, I take a moment to breathe and roll my shoulders to release some tension. She wouldn’t leave; she wouldn’t. Even as I tell myself that, though, I don’t completely believe it. What if she heard my conversation with Tanya…what if she left because she thinks the baby…? Could she have heard what happened with Tanya and run away?
The muscles in my stomach tighten, panic crawling up under my ribs to seize my heart. The shit with Tanya is something I never wanted Elyse to know.
What if she thinks I'm disgusting once the truth comes out? Once she discovers how filthy I really am?
I can’t handle it. Slowly, through her eyes, I've come to see myself in a different light, and I don’t want to lose that. I can’t lose that. The best parts of me shine brightly through her, and without her, I’m merely a shell of the man I was.
I do my best to suppress the doubt. I don't know anything yet, and until I do, letting my brain conjure up wild ideas isn’t going to help. I need proof. Exiting the kitchen, I continue down to the security room.
When I enter the space I find it’s still empty, only adding to my unease.
Where the hell is everyone? Throwing myself into one of the rolling chairs in front of the monitors, I try to log into the system but an error message pops up on the screen.
What the fuck?
I scan the real time monitors, searching for either of the security guards who are supposed to be on duty. Finally! I spot one coming in through the back door of the kitchen. It’s the oldest member of the security team, a guy who’s been here since my grandfather was alive. I don’t know if I should be thankful or throttle him to death.
Shoving out of the chair, I race from the room, intending to catch him at the top of the stairs. Adrenaline pumps in my veins, the need to find Elyse guiding me.
As soon as he spots me, he freezes. "Sir?" His voice shakes, and I can fucking see the worry and fear in his eyes, the guilt spiderwebbing across his face like broken glass.
He knows something.
"Hayes, you've been here for years." I meet him head on and stare him down. "You’ve always been loyal to the family. If there was one person we could count on, it was you. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
He looks away, refusing to make eye contact.
“Has your loyalty shifted? ” I tuck my trembling hands into the front pocket of my hoodie. I can’t let him see how close to losing it I am.
I want him afraid, yes, but I also need him to talk, and he won’t if fear is all he has running through his veins.
He blinks and exhales. "I don't know what you’re talking about, sir.”
I grit my teeth against the desire to destroy, to force him to tell me what I want to hear.
"Play stupid with someone else, not me. Now, get the fuck down here, and show me the security feed for the last twelve hours. It’s that, or I can beat the information I need out of you. What’s it going to be?”
He curses softly under his breath and steps forward. "I'll show you."
I move out of the way, and he lumbers down the stairs, defeat in the set of his shoulders. When he passes, I clench my fists, my fury rising slowly inside me like mercury in a thermometer. I follow closely behind him and throw myself into the chair, moving the other and forcing him to stand.
He quickly types into the computer and brings up the feed, then takes a step back, giving me space to review. My gaze locks onto the screen and I see the other security guard, a newer guy. I can't remember his name—not that it matters when I see him leading Ely through the back door.
They disappear off the screen, and my blood pressure bubbles over.
“Pull up the other fucking camera,” I order.
Hayes scrambles, his fingers shaking as he does what he’s told. The second camera footage pops up onto the screen, and he scrolls through the footage until I see them in the image. He hits play, and the feed shows them walking out to the cabin.
I shake my head. The fucking animals. Of course. She'd leave my bed in a heartbeat if one of her precious mutts was in trouble.
I watch the screen as they disappear inside the cabin and shove out of the chair, ready to stomp out to the cabin and murder someone.
"Wait," Hayes says, and I glance back at the screen. “It looks like there is more…”
A few minutes later, Yanov exits the cabin with Ely flung over his shoulder. The guard doesn’t follow.
I turn and punch the wall, pain rippling across my knuckles as the skin breaks. I’m fine with the pain. I welcome it, even more so with the reality that Ely is out there in the hands of a madman.
My pain is nothing.
"You better start explaining what the fuck I’m looking at, or I’m going to assume you allowed a psychopath to abduct my girl, and you don’t want that because it will mean I destroy you completely.” I advance on the now-trembling man.
“Please…it’s not what you think.”
“Oh really? How so? Because it looks a lot like you knew what was happening and not only that, but you allowed it to happen. Did you go out there to help him?”
He shakes his head frantically. "No. I only knew something was wrong when I saw the man carry her out of the cabin. I went out there immediately to see what was going on, to help her, make sure she was okay. I didn’t know who that man was or what he was doing, but I also knew there was no reason for him to be carrying around an unconscious girl.” His hands spread wide in the classic gesture of innocence as he takes a step back. “I swear it, boss. I wouldn’t betray you. I’d never.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and force myself to breathe, in…out. It’s the only attempt I have at calming myself, and it doesn’t help. It doesn’t take the edge off the slow fury boiling in my veins.
"Hayes, I’m going to take you at your word. For now. If he comes back, or you hear anything, call me immediately. And for the record," I jab my finger toward the screen. “That is the asshole I told you guys to block from the premises weeks ago. Check your fucking emails.”
I turn to the weapon locker, punch in the code, and grab one of the knives on the top shelf. These weapons don't get much use, but then again, I’ve never really had a reason to use them. That changes today.
Fueled by rage and the need for revenge, I stalk back up the stairs. My gut coils, and I’m unsure what to do with this force inside me threatening to spill over.
Yanov . Even the thought of his name makes me want to destroy everything. Try as I may, I haven’t been able to dig anything up on him. Tugging my phone out of my pocket, I hit the contact button for Grady, my PI, and wait impatiently as the phone rings and rings.
My grasp on the cell phone tightens with every passing second. When it finally goes to voicemail, I curse and consider throwing the thing. The desire to break something, to watch it shatter into a million pieces, consumes me.
No. What if I need to call someone? What if she calls me, and I miss it because of some stupid, reckless choice? I swallow down the impulse.
Fuck it. If he won’t answer the phone then I’ll go to his place.
Let him try to send me to voicemail then .
I stalk into the garage and slide into the front seat of the first car I spot, my cherry red Porsche. The engine revs with life when I start it and back out of the garage.
As soon as I shift to drive, I slam my foot on the gas. The tires screech across the pavement as I take off down the driveway. Grady lives in downtown Oakmount, where a good portion of the city’s people live. It’s a combination of middle class and low class and takes all of ten minutes to drive to.
It’s probably stupid to drive the Porsche versus something a little more low-key, a fact cemented as soon as I park at the curb of a rundown three story building. Anyone up at this ungodly hour is going to know something is up.
I shove the worrying thoughts away and grab my knife, lock the car doors, and head into the building. The outer door and the elevator are both open, with no security.
I stop outside Grady's door and bang on it a few times. There’s no answer.
Slowly, I turn and press my knuckles to the wall, shaking as I try to breathe through this fury, through this fear I can only channel into rage.
I pound on the door again, this time harder, but it devolves from pounding to kicking, to slamming my foot into the metal until it opens.
"What the actual fuck?" Grady shouts, his Irish accent thick and sleep filled. "What the hell are ye doing to my door, man?"
I crowd into him, backing him into his apartment. He's quick, so we don't actually make contact until he stops and holds his ground.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
I unclench my jaw and swallow hard. "I need whatever information you have on Yanov. Now."
"I'm not done with my investigation yet. You know that. I'd have turned it over already. I'm..."
I cut him off with a hand to his throat, and he bats it away, eyes wide. "Touch me again, and we'll have a down and dirty brawl, mate." Grady says.
I lunge for him, and he shifts expertly out of the way. "What the fuck is happening?"
"Yanov took her. He took her. He fucking took her, and I need to get her back."
His forehead crinkles as he continues to dodge my efforts to get ahold of him. He grabs his phone out of his pajama pants and hits a few numbers. He better be calling the police or an ambulance because he’s going to need them.
"Yo, yeah. You need to come’n get Sebastian, as he's about to get himself fucked up," he says to whoever is on the other end.
I turn to face the room. Mismatched furniture, an entire computer bank against one wall. A shelf of camera equipment. I catalog every trivial thing my gaze touches so I don't kill Grady before he can give me what I need.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to the edge and managed to hold myself back. After a few seconds of grasping at composure, I turn back to face the investigator again. I'm definitely not in control, but I’m also not on the verge of killing him. "Please.” I bite off the word through gritted teeth. “Give me whatever information you have."
He hangs up his phone, stalks over to the computer, and throws himself into the chair while muttering a slew of curses at me under his breath. Numerous screens pop up all at once, and I move closer, reaching for the screen to adjust it so I can see it better.
"Don't touch my computer, asshole, or I'll gut you."
I snort, the threat breaking through the haze of anger like nothing else. "I won't need to if you just give me an address or something. Anything to start with."
I drag my attention back to the screen and scan the information he has pulled up. There are details of Yanov's day to day activities. A few house locations where he's been seen…but they don't seem to be where he actually lives..
I pin Grady with a glare. "All this time, and you haven't found a thing on where this asshole lives?"
He shrugs. "He's a paranoid dick who moves around at the slightest thing. I’ve watched him go from hotel to hotel, even staying at brothels or couchsurfing. It's like he fears having one location to be found in. That might be due to how many women he's sold into slavery in the short time I've been monitoring him. It’s crazy?—"
"Tragic," I interrupt, deadpan.
He looks up at me, his jaw set. "It is fucking tragic. These are people with lives, with children; they don't deserve what he puts them through."
"No one deserves to be put through something like that, which is why I’ve hired you to help me. He has Elyse, and who knows what the fuck he plans to do next. Now are you going to do what I hired you to do, or not?”
His eyes narrow, and he hits a key on the computer. The screen clears to all black. "And what if he's already sold your girl? She could be on her way to a European country to be the plaything of some other rich dickhead."
I clench my jaw, suddenly aware I've hit a nerve with him. "Pull it back up so I can find something in all this shit that I didn't ask you to document."
He sits back and hikes up his chin, defiance oozing out of him, and his defiance is all it takes for me to snap. I launch myself at him, fist flying right into the smug look on his face. His head snaps to the side, and he comes back at me, throwing me back. He’s strong for his somewhat scrawny frame.
We hit the wall hard, the impact knocking the breath out of me. This asshole doesn’t stand a chance. Not when I need to hit someone like I need to breathe. I don't hold back when I punch him a second time, my fist landing in his gut.
He doubles over and stumbles to the side. "What the fuck? For wanting my help, you certainly have no manners.”
I’m lost in a sea of red, my anger climbing. Who the fuck does he think he is? Like I don’t know she might already be sold. Raining down on him, I land a punch wherever I can. He holds his hands and arms up to block his face, but it doesn’t stop me from landing a jab or two right on his stupid chin.
Out of nowhere, a pair of arms clamps around me, securing my upper body, and tugs me away. I look back to see Drew. Fuck him.
"It’s done, Sebastian. Back the fuck off."
Lee’s voice cuts into the haze of rage surrounding me as he crouches on the ground next to Grady and helps him to sit up.
"Your friend here is fucking looney tunes," Grady groans, wiping at his face.
“Looney tunes? You don’t have a fucking clue,” I snarl, continuing to fight against Drew’s hold. It’s useless, though; his hold is unbreakable, proof of his unyielding strength.
He’s always been stronger than me.
"Calm down, man." Drew turns me to face him, and his fingers dig hard into my shoulders, the pain forcing me to focus my attention on him. "Tell me what happened."
"He took her. Yanov took Elyse. Right from under my fucking nose." I try to keep my voice level, but there's no missing the fear there. I don’t give a fuck if I look weak, or insane, not right now. Not with Elyse out there, in the hands of that deranged fuck.
Drew stares at me, his expression hard to read, but I know him better than most. He’s worried about me, worried if I’m okay or if I’ve completely lost my mind. The answer to all those questions is: I don’t know.
"Are you calm enough that I can release you to talk to the PI to see if he knows anything else, or do I need to babysit you?”
“I’m fine.” I shake my head, my rage still riding high.
Grady crosses the room, blood dripping out of his nose. "Fuck him. I’m not going to give him a damn thing. Not after the way he just acted. He’s lucky I haven’t called the police on him."
If only he would shut his fucking mouth. Losing control, I let myself go. I don't even feel like I'm in my body as I launch myself at the man one more time, my knife in hand, the blade pressed to his throat, tight to his thundering pulse.
“Call them. Won’t be able to say much after I slit your throat.” I put pressure on the blade, and watch as it slowly sinks into his flesh, blood welling up onto the metal.
"Fuck," Drew curses as he comes up behind me. I anticipate his reaction and swing on him. The knife cuts through the air with a swoosh as he dodges it expertly, twisting to the side at the last second. Grasping onto my forearm, he presses against the pressure point there, disabling my grip and forcing me to drop the knife. Fucker.
"Seriously? I asked you if you were okay.”
“And I was until he fucking opened his mouth again .”
“Who cares what he says? Only Elyse matters. Do you think she'd appreciate you acting like an asshole?"
“Elyse wouldn’t give a fuck what I had to do to save her.” I shove at his chest; he doesn't budge. He doesn’t even blink. He doesn’t understand. Doesn’t grasp how fucking dangerous this man is. “You wouldn’t know, but I do. I know how fucked up this guy is, and the things he will do to her. What he’s already done to her.” I shake my head. “One minute in his presence could be the end of her life if she makes the wrong move. I can’t risk leaving her with him. I can’t have her blood on my hands, too.”
The raw anguish coating my voice makes me feel vulnerable and weak, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters but saving her.
Drew’s jaw clenches, and after a moment he turns to face Grady, “I know you don’t want to help, and I suppose Sebastian could’ve asked a little more kindly. However,” Drew’s eyes go flat and hard, and Grady tenses, his shoulders rigid, his eyes searching the area as if he’s hunting an exit in the face of an apex predator. “You were hired to find this man, and now, when his girl has been taken by the creep, he needs that information, so unfortunately for you, no one is leaving here until you hand over what we need. I can appreciate the fact that you need to be paid for your work, and I will ensure that you are, but let me be clear...produce the information, or Sebastian will be the least of your worries.”
My heart hammers in my chest. If he’s smart, he’ll say yes. I glare at the PI over Drew’s shoulder, daring him to say no. It’ll be the last thing he says, thinks, or does. Some part of me feels a little more secure with Drew here. He’ll make sure I don’t do anything that I might not be able to take back later.
Weighing his options, Grady shakes his head angrily and turns to his computer. Shoving the monitor to the side he grabs the thumb drive from a port, and tosses it to Drew.
“Get the fuck out, and don’t come back,” he snarls at the three of us.
I don’t respond; there’s no reason to. I got the information I need; now I have to find Elyse before it’s too late.