Chapter Fourteen
~ Gone ~
Soren
I’ve been holding Kit’s hand for a long while now.
It feels strangely normal, almost instinctive.
My large, tattooed fingers wrapped around his smaller, softer ones…
a quiet way of keeping him safe in this sea of people.
The contact calms something restless in my chest that I don’t care to examine too closely.
I haven’t missed the stares from passers-by, though.
A man like me… tall, heavily inked, clearly dangerous…
holding hands with someone as small and delicate as Kit draws attention.
Some of them probably assume he’s my son.
The fifteen-year age gap and the sheer size difference between us would make it believable to most, but I don’t give a fuck what they think.
What surprises me more is how proud I feel of him.
In the Apple Store, the very first place we went, his entire demeanour had collapsed within minutes.
One salesman asking questions and offering options, and Kit had started stammering, sweating, and shaking.
I hated seeing it. Not because it made him look weak, but because it bothered me on a deeper level; I didn’t want him to feel like that.
He’s been gradually getting better as time went on.
We just left Harrods, where Kit had gotten curious and dragged me inside. He went pale at the price tags and refused to let me buy him anything. I’d laughed at first, then caught myself and let him pull me around like I was some oversized, dangerous pet on a leash.
Kit lets go of my hand and I grunt in displeasure, immediately grabbing it again, threading our fingers back together.
He laughs softly, cheeks flushing pink. “I need the toilet.”
I don’t like public restrooms, even in a place this exclusive. “You can wait until we get home.”
Kit frowns. “Soren, that’s half an hour away. Maybe more, depending on traffic.”
I huff, knowing he’s right. Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “Fine.”
I start dragging him toward the bathrooms, Selina and Armen falling in close behind us without needing to be told.
When we reach the wide hallway leading down to the facilities, I nod at them. “Wait here.”
They both nod and take up positions on either side of the entrance like silent sentinels.
Kit laughs quietly, a little embarrassed. “You don’t need to come in with me.”
I just shrug and keep walking. The bathroom is mostly empty, luxurious marble and soft lighting, the kind of place that smells like expensive soap instead of public toilets. Only one man stands at the sinks washing his hands.
Kit lets go of my hand and looks up at me. “You really just gonna stand there?”
I huff. “Be quick.”
He disappears into a stall. Since this pretentious place doesn’t have urinals, probably too uncivilised for rich men, I step into the stall beside his so I can still keep an eye on the entrance and hear him. I don’t like not being able to see him, even here, even now.
I soon hear his stall door open again. “You good, Kit?” I call out, voice low.
“Yeah,” he answers, a soft laugh threading through the word.
I take my time… zip up, buckle my belt, tuck my shirt back in, and straighten my jacket. When I finally step out of the stall, the words are already forming on my tongue. “Are you…”
The bathroom is empty… the taps are still running, water splashing loudly into the marble sink. No Kit. No movement. Just the steady hiss of water and the sudden, deafening thud of my own pulse in my ears.
“Kit?” Silence.
I stride over and slam the taps off. The abrupt quiet feels worse. “Christopher?” I say again, sharper now. Nothing.
Something cold and ugly settles deep in my gut. I swear to God, if this is some stupid fucking prank…
I shove out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Selina and Armen are still exactly where I left them.
Armen looks past me, frowning. “Where’s Kit?”
My jaw locks. “I was hoping you’d know.”
Selina straightens instantly, all casualness gone. “Wait… what?”
“He didn’t come out?” My voice is dangerously low.
Armen shakes his head once. “No.”
I drag a hand through my hair, fingers shaking as my breathing turns rough and uneven.
He was smiling, laughing, finally having a good fucking day.
So, where the hell would he go? The question claws at me, vicious and unrelenting.
My mind races through every worst-case scenario I’ve spent years trying to protect him from…
and then it lands on the one that hurts the most. Would he have run?
Would he rather take his chances out there, alone, than spend one more day under my roof?
The thought hits like a blade between the ribs.
“Armen. Double-check the men’s bathroom. Now.”
Armen nods and jogs off without a word.
Selina is paler now too, her usual calm cracking. She flicks her eyes over my shoulder and says, “Boss, watch out…”
I feel a hand brush against the back of my trousers. My eyebrows snap up as I turn. A man is pushing a wheelchair past us. In the chair sits an older man, head lolled to the side, clearly dozing under a blanket. The pusher quickly pulls his hand back and offers an awkward smile.
“Sorry about that. He’s had a long morning.”
He laughs, the sound forced and uneasy, then keeps moving, wheeling the chair down the hall and out of sight.
The moment they’re gone, the unease in my gut sharpens into something colder. I start pacing. The panic is rising fast now, sharp and ugly in my chest.
“Do you think… he’d… run away?”
Selina lets out a disbelieving, nervous laugh. “What? No. Are you kidding me?” Her face pale. “Boss…”
“Check the ladies’ room,” I say, voice low and tight, cutting her off.
Selina nods quickly and hurries down the hall without another word.
My hand is shaking as I yank my phone out and dial Sam. He picks up on the second ring, voice bright and easy. “Hey, boss man. You good?”
The sound of his casual tone makes something twist violently in my chest. “No.”
The cheer drops instantly. “Shit. What do you need?”
I have to swallow hard against the nausea clawing up my throat. My voice comes out rough, almost cracked, like the words are being dragged out of me. “Kit’s… gone, Sam.”
There’s a beat of stunned silence on the line. “Gone?” Sam repeats, quieter now. “Gone where?”
I close my eyes for half a second, the hallway spinning around me. The worst part is I don’t know where he is. I don’t know how he disappeared right under my nose.
“That’s what I need you to find out,” I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “Get Luke, get your team. I need you to hack into Westbridge Mall’s CCTV feeds. All of them. Especially the corridors and entrances near the bathrooms on the ground floor.”
Sam clears his throat, the hesitation obvious even over the line. “The toilets, boss?”
“I know there won’t be cameras inside,” I snap, the panic bleeding into my tone. “But anything. One minute he was in there. The next… gone… no one saw him leave.”
There’s a heavy pause on the other end. “I’ll get what I can,” Sam says, all business now. “I’ll have everything ready for you when you get home. I’ll call immediately if I locate him.”
I don’t even manage a reply before I hang up, my grip so tight on the phone I’m surprised the screen doesn’t crack.
I hang up just as Armen and Selina return, both of them looking grim.
“Nothing, boss,” Armen says. “Fucking nothing.”
Selina shakes her head; worry carved deep into her features, face paling.
I pat her shoulder once, trying to keep my voice steady. “Remember your role.”
She nods quickly. “Yeah, of course.”
Armen looks between us. “What now?”
I walk back out into the main thoroughfare, eyes scanning the crowd like Kit might magically appear. People are already giving me a wide berth, sensing the storm rolling off me.
“Split up,” I order, voice rough. “Search every corner of this fucking place.”
They both nod and move off in opposite directions.
I don’t bother asking the security guards.
Sam and Luke will pull better footage than any rent-a-cop could ever give me.
I should head home… I should get in the car right now, drive back to the estate, and watch every second of that footage in the security room like the cold, calculated king I’m supposed to be.
But I can’t make myself move. My feet stay rooted to the marble floor while my eyes keep scanning the crowd, desperately searching for a flash of dark curls or that oversized black button-down that still smells like me.
I won’t leave yet… not while there’s even the smallest, stupidest chance he’s still somewhere in this building.
Please let this be a prank. Please let him have slipped into a shop to buy some ridiculous surprise. Something I can punish him for later. Something I can growl at him about while I pull him into my lap and pretend I wasn’t terrified.
For half a second the mask slips completely, my face falls, shoulders dropping.
The cold, ruthless king fractures and all that’s left is a man who just realized the one person he’s allowed himself to care about might have finally run from him…
or worse. The fear of failure hits like ice in my veins.
I inhale sharply through my nose, the sound ragged even to my own ears.
My hands curl into fists at my sides until the knuckles ache.
No. I straighten my spine, lock my jaw, and force the mask back into place with brutal efficiency.
But underneath it, the fear lingers like poison.
He has to be here somewhere… he has to.
Please be here somewhere, Kit.