Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Dorian
I’m one wrong breath from losing my fucking mind.
I’ve studied the same paragraph six times, and I haven’t read a single word.
It’s some bullshit about campaign media compliance and third-party expenditures.
I should care. Should flag the clause about PAC donations.
Should call. Should do anything other than sit here like a ghost haunting my own office.
Shoving back from my desk, I plow my hand into my hair.
Last night’s events claw at me, playing on an endless, hopeless loop.
After Isla had gone into her private office, I’d wanted to follow her, and Brennan placed himself in front of me, blocking me.
Eventually he talked me into giving her a few minutes to herself.
An hour or so later, I exhaled in relief when I heard the door open and caught a glimpse of her moving toward our room. And our bed.
The sight had drained every sharp edge, calmed the war I’d been ready to wage.
Acknowledging that Brennan had been right, I poured us each a whiskey and offered one of the glasses to him. “Good call.”
“There are times to push.” He shrugged. “And times not to.”
Once we finished our discussion, I walked down the hall to find my wife. But she wasn’t there, and neither was Calypso.
Without us noticing, she slipped out and locked herself in a guest room.
Furious, I snapped. “I’ll take this fucking door off its hinges if you don’t open up immediately.”
Her silence had been louder than my rage.
I turned to Brennan. “Get me a fucking tool to unlock this fucking door!”
Brennan clamped a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back. “Give her space, man. Just…let her be for tonight.”
Anger lit me up from the inside, blinding me to reason. It wasn’t until he balled his hand into a fist that I blinked and backed off.
Moments later in the sudden, deafening quiet, her soft cries reached me. And I was broken.
Then Brennan shoved me against the wall, voice like stone. “You break in, you’ll never get her back.”
Goddamn him. Goddamn her.
And goddamn me and my temper most of all.
Without knocking, Brennan walks into my office.
Expectantly I jerk up my head. “You’ve heard from her?”
Not responding, he paces to the window. His shirt is rumpled, and his sleeves are rolled up like he’s been in some battle. Maybe he has. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d smacked the shit out of a punching bag in the building’s fitness center. Or put a hole in a wall like he’d done on our honeymoon.
His phone rings.
“Is it her?”
He snatches the device from his pocket and glances at it. From the way his jaw tightens, I know it’s not.
“Her driver.”
I scowl.
“West.” His tone is low and clipped. As he listens, his eyes darken. “She fucking what ?”
Blood chilling, I cut a glance to Brennan. “Put it on speaker.”
With a tight nod, he does what I said then returns to the call. “Repeat what you just said.”
“She’s gone, sir.”
Gone? The words hit like a blow to my chest. “The hell do you mean, gone?”
There’s a slight hesitation, as if the driver is swallowing his fear.
“I—I’m sorry, sir. We stopped at the vet.
For the cat. I was watching the exit, but she never came out.
Mrs. Vale said not to worry if it took a while because the vet was working her in.
” He exhales a shaky breath. “But after half an hour, I went inside, just to check.”
The silence hangs thick.
“She went out the back door.”
Fuck me.
Back door. Of course. She planned it. Waited for the one sliver of freedom and bolted. She fucking planned every single moment.
“I’m driving around, looking for her.” Before hanging up, the driver apologizes. “This shouldn’t have happened, sir.”
Fucking right it shouldn’t have. I slam my hand on the desk. “Fire him. ”
A storm brewing in his eyes, Brennan grabs his cell. “I’m trying her again.”
I stab a button on my desk phone. “Get Lasker in here,” I bark at my admin. Lasker is head of security, and this is also on him. We need security footage and a plan. Stat.
Brennan switches to speaker, so that I can hear the ring. And then…voicemail.
Just like this morning.
Her voice—soft, steady, the one that reads Jane Eyre to her cat—cuts through the line, making me want to smash something.
“Isla… Please. Call us. Let us know you’re okay.”
“And where the hell she is—” Before I can get out my demand, Brennan has pushed a button to end the call. “The fuck?”
“This isn’t the time for your shit.” He jams his phone into his pocket.
I slam my fist on the desk, the impact rattling a pen to the floor. My pulse hammers, a vicious rhythm.
Isla, my Isla, is alone out there, the senator’s staff wants to gut me, and the feds are sniffing closer. She’s outsmarted us. Outsmarted me . The realization burns, turning my blood to acid in my veins.
She’s gone, but a desperate part of me refuses to believe it. I need to see it. Need proof. Need pain I can hold in my fucking hand. “I’m going to the penthouse.”
He doesn’t argue. He never does when the world is tilting and I’m one step from destroying everything in my path.
As we pass my admin, he tells her to redirect Lasker to the apartment.
The elevator ride is a blur, the city’s pulse mocking me through the glass. I should’ve put a tracker on her, monitored her phone, chained her to my bed where she belongs.
Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me ?
I’ve never been like this before.
The penthouse door clicks open, and the silence inside is suffocating. Marble gleams under the afternoon light, the skyline looming beyond the glass like a jury waiting to pass judgment.
I immediately stride to the bedroom.
Everything looks fine. Tidy. Ordinary. Except… Her copy of Jane Eyre is gone.
And of course, Calypso is with Isla.
So she left with only the two things that mattered to her.
My shoes echo, too loud, as I return to the kitchen. And there it is. The pink diamond ring—hers, Brennan’s, mine—sits on the counter, catching the light like a fucking betrayal.
No! I want to scream. To rage.
Instead, needing the connection to her, I snatch it up and grip it hard. The metal is cold and biting against my palm. And the weight of her absence crushes me.
I lock my knees, refusing to break. Not yet.
In shock, disbelief, I close my eyes. And she’s here with me—her defiance after the gala, green eyes blazing as she demanded answers.
Her chin set stubbornly as she’d stood by me when having breakfast with Everett and Celeste.
And… Her sweet and wicked surrender, arching under my touch, whispering my name as if it’s a prayer.
The ring bites harder into my palm, and reality crashes back. I whirl on Brennan, who’s standing by the bar, his phone in hand. “It’s your fucking fault.” My voice is a vicious snarl, and I don’t try to tamp down my anger. “If you hadn’t made me give her space, she’d still be here.”
“Fuck off, Vale.” Brennan’s jaw ticks. “You’re a goddamn idiot if you believe that. If you’d have broken down that door, she’d have run even sooner. You were scaring her.”
“Scaring her?” I scoff, the sound scraping the air, bitter and jagged. “She’s my wife. ”
“She’s ours.”
His voice is low and dangerous, warning me not to cross a line. I know his hold on his temper is as fragile as mine.
“She’s fire, Dorian.” His eyes lock on mine, dark as a storm. “And you’re too busy trying to cage it.”
The words land like a blade, cutting through my rage.
My shoulders fall forward.
He’s right, and I hate him for it. I hate him for knowing her better than I do. For being the steady anchor I can never be. The anger makes me lash out. “We lost Lena.”
His face goes stark, cheekbones sharp under the weight of my words. For a moment, I think he’ll hit me. I want him to. But he just stares, his pain raw, unguarded. “And you fucking froze.”
There they are. The words that are seared into memory, forever haunting me.
“I went to prison, and she still died. So don’t you fucking lecture me about losing Isla, Vale.”
We’d both been destroyed then like we are now.
“And you’re right. I couldn’t save Lena.
But I’m trying to save your sorry ass. Again.
And Isla.” He steps closer, his breath uneven.
“She didn’t just run, Dorian. She planned this.
She outsmarted us because she’s stronger than you give her credit for.
And you’re too fucking scared to let her be that. ”
Lena’s memory rises between us, her smile from that beach photo—white sand, blue water, my arm around her—burning in my mind. Her death broke me, carved out pieces I thought I’d buried.
Isla has started to crack me open.
But I will never open myself to that kind of pain again.
I grip her ring tighter, my knuckles white, and the fear claws at me—fear of her out there, unprotected, fear of never having her in my arms again. The fear of utter, soul-destroying loss. “We could’ve stopped her.” My voice frays. My hands tremble. I’m unraveling, and I know it. “We should’ve.”
“She was determined. She’d have found a way.”
I want to argue, to scream that I could’ve controlled this, could’ve kept her safe. But the truth chokes me. She left because of me. Because of my lies, my need to own her, my refusal to bend, for not telling her everything she was up against.
I pocket the ring, its weight a promise she didn’t keep, but something I can’t let go of yet.
Lasker arrives, shattering the cloying tension.
Brennan steels his emotions with his training, figuring out assignments for the security crew, including four men who are being sent to the area of the vet’s office to canvas for security videos. Our team can be very persuasive.
“Get another team to her apartment.”
At Brennan’s words, Lasker nods.
She never agreed to cancel her lease, and I should have followed up. She shouldn’t have somewhere she can go to escape me.
When Lasker leaves, Brennan follows.
“Where the hell are you going?” I demand, my voice cracking despite myself.
He doesn’t look back. “To fucking make sure she’s safe. And I’m going without you.”
The door slams behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot, and I’m alone.
The penthouse is too quiet, the skyline too still. I sink into the chair by the bar, the ring burning a hole in my pocket, my fist clenched around nothing. Isla’s gone. Brennan’s gone.
They’re gone.
And all I’ve got left is the man I never wanted to be.