66. -65-
Dorian
Ifell asleep fully clothed, with Aryna curled into my side, hugging her enormous teddy bear.
We played a game, then watched TV, and ate a massive bowl of popcorn before she finally showed signs of tiredness.
And even after that, she endured a full bath routine, trying Nina’s flowery products, and we successfully won a fight with the hair dryer.
All of that kept me away from my demon whispering the same poisonous thought over and over again.
She isn’t coming back.
I stifled every time his devious whisper echoed in my head, but Aryna’s presence kept me grounded.
However, at three am, a horrible nightmare combined with his shouting woke me up.
In the quiet of my bedroom, disturbed only by Aryna’s soft breathing, all my fears crawled up, ready to bury my brave hopes for a happy family.
Nina took my car and sped off the property as if someone was chasing her. I forced myself not to follow. Every instinct screamed at me to go after her, but I convinced myself she needed space, that she’d calm down and come home. Now, lying awake in the darkness, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
She cared for me. No one could persuade me otherwise. But at the same time, my doubts resurfaced. My past mistakes, terrible decisions, and failures were proof she deserved better than an asshole who forgot to tell her about a child.
“Bloody hell,” I exhaled, freeing my arm from under Aryna’s body when another shadow took the contours of a demon crawling from my subconscious. She wiggled but didn’t wake up, and I quietly left the bedroom.
I checked the window to see if my Jaguar was parked outside, and my heart clenched painfully. The usual place in front of the house was empty, and the pouring rain only underlined the anxiety wrapping around my insides.
“She’s fine,” I muttered, more to convince myself than anyone else. “She just needs time.”
I dragged a frustrated hand through my hair and wandered into the kitchen, putting the coffee machine to work out of pure habit. I wasn’t thirsty. I just needed something to occupy my hands before they started shaking.
My phone lay on the marble counter. I stared at it as the persistent thought resurfaced.
One call. Just one. If she didn’t answer, I’d leave her alone.
I pressed her name. The ringtone echoed through the silent house.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Voicemail.
A knot tightened in my stomach.
“Nina…” I whispered, ending the call before the robotic voice invited me to leave a message, and tried again. This time the call went straight to voicemail.
My heartbeat stumbled. It wasn’t like her. Even angry, she’d decline the call just to make a point. She enjoyed torturing me too much to disappear completely.
I called again. Voicemail.
Again. Nothing.
I lowered the phone, staring at the dark screen. The rain battered the windows. The coffee machine beeped behind me, completely forgotten. Everything looked ordinary while my instincts screamed that something was off.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I opened our text conversation.
Dorian: Please let me know you’re okay.
I stared at the message for a long second before pressing send.
Not delivered.
“What the hell?” I mumbled, another wave of worry washing over me as I called again.
Voicemail.
“Fuck,” I whispered, rubbing my forehead. “Don’t do this to me, ma vilaine.”
Maybe she had no signal.
Maybe her phone died.
Maybe…
Stop, you pathetic asshole, and do something! The demon snarled.
Nodding mindlessly, I reached for Malin’s phone lying on the kitchen counter. His surveillance team could locate Nina within minutes, and at that point I no longer cared whether she’d murder me afterward for invading her privacy. But before I could unlock it, my own phone vibrated.
Zyon.
A frown creased my forehead. It was three sixteen in the morning. Something went to shit if he called me in the middle of the night.
“Hello?” I picked up, scrolling through the other phone’s contacts.
“Dorian.” My brother’s voice was clipped, unusually tense. “Where are you?”
“At home,” I replied, my thumb pausing on Stella's name.
“Are you sure?”
The question made me straighten.
“Of course. Where else should I be?” I laughed forcefully, but another pause made my stomach twist with unease.
“Dorian,” Zyon said slowly, “you’re not at Starlight, or in your Manhattan apartment. Where exactly is home?”
I ran a hand through my hair and rolled my eyes. Again, I fucking forgot.
“I have a new house in Greenwich. A few streets from you, actually.” I gulped, awaiting a scolding, but he didn’t say anything. “I basically have lived here since the kidnapping.”
“Where is Sasha?” he asked, the tension in his voice palpable.
“At home?” I snapped, impatiently tapping my fingers against the counter. “With his mother? I don’t know. What’s with these questions, Zyon? What is going on?”
“Shit,” he muttered as background noise told me someone was approaching.
“Zyon?” I yelled, reminding him of my presence. “I’m still waiting. What happened?”
“My men found your Jaguar,” he said carefully. “It was abandoned in the middle of the road. The passenger window is smashed. There are signs of a fight.”
The words didn’t make any sense.
“What?” Every muscle in my body froze as I looked toward the empty driveway. A cold, sick feeling settled deep in my stomach.
“Who was driving that car, Dorian?” he asked, but I couldn’t answer because the pieces finally snapped together.
Nina. My Nina drove that fucking car.
“I…” The bitter taste in my mouth almost made me gag. “Zyon…”
My hands started shaking so violently I nearly dropped the phone.
“Dorian.” My brother’s voice reached me through the roaring in my ears. “Stay with me.”
My chest locked so brutally it felt as though someone drove a knife between my ribs.
Every horrible possibility my mind tried to bury came alive at once.
Nina screaming. Nina bleeding. Nina fighting until there was nothing left in her.
My vision blurred as the world threatened to tilt beneath my feet.
“Not now,” I whispered, bending over. “Not ever. She needs me.”
The thought struck with enough force to make me flinch. The panic didn’t disappear. I pushed it away because there was no time to waste.
“Dorian? Are you with me?” Zyon’s voice cut through the fog.
“Yes,” I confirmed, breathing hard. “Nina had the car.”
“Okay,” he replied, his own voice becoming calmer. “We’ll find her.”
“Of course.” I grabbed the kitchen counter so hard my knuckles turned white. “And we’re going to destroy whoever dared to touch her.”
“Consider it done,” he agreed. “Text me your house address. I’ll pick you up.”
Oh, hell, no. Aryna.
“Can’t. I have a kid in here.”
“A kid?” Zyon echoed in evident shock. “Since when do you have a kid?”
I dragged a hand over my face.
“Long story.” I walked toward the living room, my eyes fixed on the French windows where rain hammered against the glass. “Can she stay with you? With Zara and Valeria. She knows them.”
I looked toward the gun safe beneath the stairs where I locked all my belongings after officially leaving family business.
“Fine, but you have some explaining to do. Be ready.”
Zyon showed up at my door ten minutes later with a whole cavalry. Valeria came with him, wrapped in a long trench coat, saying only two sentences that made my breathing easier.
“Aryna is safe. Go find your woman.”
I slid into the passenger seat of Zyon’s Maserati, gripping my white Desert Eagle in my left hand and feeling my knives burn in their usual tactical positions.
I hadn’t used them since the hunt on Aryna’s foster father with Malin.
I kept them out of sight so I wouldn't be reminded of what I left behind, but fucking hell. I’d return to Zyon’s side with full force and destroy anyone who dared to put a hand on my wife.
“Do we know who did it?” I asked, tapping the gun against my knee. I was seconds from going on a killing spree, not caring who got caught in a crossfire. If I had to burn the city down just to find her, so be it.
That’s my boy, the demon whispered, smiling proudly. Finally using his full potential.
“No.” Zyon shook his head, disturbing my inner conversation. “We have some clues, but nothing solid. Ideas?”
“I’m trying to contact Matteo,” I replied, fishing my phone out of my jacket. “I called him seventeen times, but he just isn’t picking up.”
“Why Matteo?” Zyon frowned, speeding through the pouring rain like a maniac.
“His brother is Nina’s best friend. But I don’t have his number.
” I hit my head against the car's headrest and shut my eyes. Helplessness momentarily almost paralyzed me. I knew no one from Nina’s life who could help us, except for her father, who was reportedly out of state, her best friend, and the fucker she was arranged to marry.
But according to my information, which Stella immediately provided, Sonny Carlile was playing poker in Jersey.
In the meantime, Zyon called someone, and two minutes later, Matteo called him back. Of course, my brother knew where the imbecile was. One sentence from him and the text with Lucas’s number came on my phone.
Someone tell me again: why the fuck did I leave my brother’s organization?
“Thank you,” I muttered toward Zyon as I dialed Lucas’s number. He answered after the third ring.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Dorian,” I said, gripping the phone tighter than was necessary. “Is Nina with you?”
“Nina?” Lucas woke up in a split second. “She left… almost two hours ago, saying she’s going home.”
My heart painfully missed a beat.
“H-home?” I involuntarily stuttered, everything crushing down on me with full force. “To me?”
“Where else?” he barked, shuffling on the other side. “She didn’t come?”
“No.” I looked at Zyon, who hypnotized the road. “The car was found abandoned with a smashed window.”
“Oh, fuck,” he exhaled, and something, probably a glass, shattered in the background. “If I help you, you won’t kill me, right?”
“Why would I…”
“I helped her kidnap you, remember?” he groaned, the familiar tapping on the keyboard I was used to from calling Malin echoing through the phone. “I’d do anything for her, but I won’t survive torture.”
“You’ll be tortured if you don’t help us,” I threatened, making Zyon chuckle.
“Okay, okay, mafia boss,” Lucas said. “I’ll text you my address.”
“Good boy.”
I ended the call, glaring at Zyon.
“What?” I asked when he didn’t stop grinning.
“You’re back.” He flashed me a surprisingly happy look. “I was really worried for you for a second.”
“Why?” I mumbled, turning to look out the window just to avoid looking at him.
“The last time you freaked out like that, Mom let doctors sedate you,” he replied. Considering how much our mom hated when they pumped me with drugs, it was huge.
“I killed people,” I reminded him of probably my worst episode. “And I don’t even remember it. She had to do it.”
“Is it that bad now?” His grin vanished, replaced by a concerned brotherly expression.
“Not yet,” I lied as the demon laughed maniacally in the background. “But if someone hurt her…” I couldn’t finish that sentence. My sanity hung by the thinnest thread.
“She’s that important, huh?”
“You have no idea.” I finally looked at him, my heart picking up speed just from a mere thought of something terrible happening to Nina.
“Well, we have ten minutes to our destination.” He pointed at the navigation. “Speak.”