Chapter 11
Liev
The guesthouse is too quiet when I step inside.
The lock clicks behind me, soft and final, and the sound carries farther than it should through the open floor plan.
For a moment I stand there with my hand on the knob, listening to the hum of the air conditioning and the faint tick of the kitchen clock.
I stand in the silence, waiting for some sign of her presence.
We’ve been married for just over a month, but already I can sense her, and she’s not here.
There’s no half-drunk mug of coffee abandoned on the counter, and no laptop open with code scrolling down the screen.
The place looks like no one lives here at all. Even on our last night in the guesthouse, this feels wrong.
A tightness gathers low in my gut. It’s the same cold pressure I get before a job goes bad. It isn’t logical; it’s instinct. Old and animal, honed by years of walking into rooms that smelled wrong a second before gunfire started.
I check the bedroom first. The bed is made, and the sheets are smooth and crisp. Her suitcase is gone from the corner where she’d been sorting through clothes. The closet doors hang open, empty hangers knocking together when I brush past them.
We are supposed to move in tomorrow. We have only one night left here.
She wouldn’t leave without telling me.
Not after—
I cut the thought short and turn on my heel, berating myself. It was stupid of me to think this was turning into something more. To think that she’d tell you everything.
Her text earlier this afternoon was casual, lacking petulance or even a joke at the expense of my age. She’s been settling in, I thought, or at least not resisting this…us, anymore.
Maybe she went to the main house. Maybe Carmela dragged her over for dinner or another suffocating conversation.
I walk across the courtyard with long, measured strides that feel too controlled. My hands are already flexing at my sides, ready for a fight I can’t see yet.
The main house is lit up like a showroom. It smells like perfume and expensive food, all of it too rich, too loud, and too much. Hinto’s taste bleeds into every corner of this place, even though he’s not here.
Carmela appears, a look of surprise on her face.
“Liev,” she purrs. “You look tense. I wasn’t expecting a visit on your last night.” Her eyelids lower, and I don’t have to guess what she’s thinking or why she thinks I’m here.
“Where’s Ryder?”
Her smile falters for half a second before she shrugs one elegant shoulder. “Out, I assume. She gets restless. Just a girl, you know. Not used to the kind of life you live.”
My jaw tightens.
“She can’t handle a man like you,” Carmela continues, stepping closer. “All this responsibility and power. Maybe she ran off to breathe. I’m happy to have the chance to spend your last night here with you.”
Her hand lands on my chest. Red nails. Heavy rings.
She drags her fingers down slowly, testing me.
The contact makes my skin crawl. I catch her wrist before she can go any lower and remove her hand as if it were something dirty.
“Don’t,” I say quietly.
She blinks, surprised.
“You don’t take her seriously,” I add, my voice steady, but sharp enough to cut glass. “That’s your mistake. Ryder isn’t a child, and she isn’t fragile. She’s smarter than half the men in this city, including the ones your husband trusts.”
Carmela studies me, and something calculating flickers behind her eyes.
“You sound very protective.”
“She’s my wife,” I say, and the words come out with the undertone a of warning. “Watch how you talk about her.”
For once, Carmela doesn’t have a comeback.
I leave before she can try again.
Back in the guesthouse, the quiet feels worse. I pull out my phone and text Ryder.
Where are you?
The message shows delivered. Minutes tick by.
No reply.
I set the phone on the table and pace the length of the living room. Maybe her father sent her off on another errand. Maybe she just wants to feel independent, not locked into this marriage.
Maybe something happened.
The clock keeps ticking.
Ten p.m.
Eleven.
Midnight.
I sit, stand, sit again. I check the windows, the doors, the security feed on my tablet, even though I know it won’t show me anything useful. Just Ryder leaving the house, casually. Not returning. My mind keeps building scenarios I don’t want.
I can’t track her phone; even before I tried, I knew that. She’s an IT genius and would have things in place to make sure no one can find her that way. What if she ditched it?
Taking a deep breath, I make a call I’ve been avoiding. Kazimir picks up on the second ring.
“She didn’t come back,” I say without preamble. My best friend listens quietly, both of us hundreds of miles away and sitting in the dark.
There’s a beat of silence when I finish, and that worries me even more. It feels like a hook in my heart.
“Is everything okay, Liev? I haven’t heard you this upset,” he pauses. Both of us know what he was about to say: since you learned of my obsession with your daughter; since I took her, made her mine, behind your back.
“…in a while.”
I exhale through my nose. “Everything else,” I grit out, “has been running smoothly. Contacts set up, contracts started. I’ve been reviewing port layouts and territory lines. Next week I planned on making purchases so we can start importing and exporting. I wasn’t expecting…”
“Your bride to run away again,” he deadpans. But it’s no joke; it’s the one thing I haven’t allowed myself to think.
“She wouldn’t run,” I insist. “Not again. We have an understanding.”
“Do you?” Kazimir asks, his voice hardening. No longer childhood best friends, but two Bratva leaders solving a problem. I just don’t want death to be the answer.
“You need to find her, Liev. Get this under control. It won’t do well for the other syndicates down there to see any kind of weakness. And you married Hinto Moreno’s daughter. That makes this worse.”
It’s true. But something in me still can’t accept that Ryder is betraying me.
I make clipped, professional plans to find her and get an update on when the rest of my team will arrive.
I contact everyone from financial advisors and lawyers to the young men who hide in the shadows and spill blood in my name.
Kazimir stays calm and controlled as well, but there’s an unspoken tension between us.
I could fuck this up.
When we hang up, I sink into the chair and scrub a hand over my face while anger and something uglier tangle together in my chest.
I’ve spent decades alone. Built everything with my own hands. I told myself I didn’t need anything real, didn’t need anyone.
Now I’ve had a wife for a few weeks and the thought of losing her makes my vision go red.
I laugh once under my breath, humorless.
Pathetic.
Dangerous.
Mine.
The word slips through my head before I can stop it.
Mine to protect. Mine to find. Mine to bring home.
I stand.
Waiting is for weaker men. Hunting is easier than worrying.
When I find Ryder, I’m not letting her out of my sight again.