Chapter Fifteen
~ Where are You? ~
Soren
The SUV pulls away from the now-quieting mall, the engine’s low hum the only sound in the otherwise suffocating silence of the cabin.
My hands are fisted so tightly on my thighs that my knuckles have gone white. My jaw is clenched so hard it aches, and my eyes keep twitching… small, involuntary spasms I can’t control. Every muscle in my body is wound tight, like a spring ready to snap.
We spent hours searching. Every shop, every corridor, every bathroom, twice.
I even cornered one of the security guards, towering over him until the man’s face went pale, and demanded access to the staff areas, the break rooms, the stockrooms, anywhere Kit could possibly be hiding.
The guard took one look at me and nodded so fast I thought his head might fall off. We tore through it all… nothing.
When we finally regrouped near the main entrance, Selina looked wrecked.
Her ponytail had half-collapsed, strands sticking to her flushed, sweaty face.
Her eyes were pink and glassy, like she’d been fighting back tears while she ran.
She was one of the first people who ever tried to reach out to Kit, back when he was still too terrified to speak to anyone.
I never let her get too close, but I saw the way they exchanged those quiet, caring smiles.
This week she’d finally started pulling him out of his shell.
Armen wasn’t much better. His tie was loose, shirt untucked, hair a mess from repeatedly dragging his hand through it. He kept avoiding my eyes, shoulders tense with guilt he had no right to carry but clearly felt anyway.
I don’t blame either of them. But I can see it on their faces…
they feel like they failed him too. We were all right there.
So how the fuck did he vanish? That single question loops endlessly in my head, louder with every passing second.
One minute he was in the stall next to mine.
The next… gone. No scream… no struggle… no sign of him leaving the bathroom.
It doesn’t make sense, none of it makes sense.
I stare out the tinted window as the mall shrinks behind us, the lights blurring into streaks. My chest feels too tight, like something is crushing it from the inside.
I keep hoping and praying, that Sam and Luke will have something by the time we get back to the estate. But they haven’t called, not once; that silence is its own kind of torture. If they haven’t called, it means they haven’t found him yet.
My fingers dig harder into my thighs until the knuckles protest. He was smiling today, he was holding my hand, and now he’s gone. I close my eyes for a second, jaw flexing. The fear is there… raw, ugly, and growing.
Where are you, Kit?
◆◆◆
The second the SUV stops in front of the estate; I storm out and head straight inside.
I don’t deviate, don’t stop to speak to anyone.
I just walk, fast and purposeful, boots echoing down the long hallways.
The estate feels too big tonight. Three fucking turns just to reach the security wing where Sam, Luke, and their team work.
Every corridor stretches longer than it should.
When I finally push through the door into their main room, the atmosphere is thick with tension. Five guys are locked in at their stations, fingers flying across keyboards. Luke sits at the largest desk surrounded by multiple monitors, while Sam is pacing like a caged animal.
Sam sees me first. He stops mid-step, looks at the floor for a second, then meets my eyes with a grim nod. “Boss.”
I inhale sharply through my nose. “Please give me something here, Sam.”
His sigh says everything. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly exhausted. “We found the moment you and Kit went into the toilets.”
I nod once, jaw tight.
Sam scratches his jaw, hesitant. “Boss… only you came out, not Kit. Christopher never left that hallway.”
I frown. “What the fuck do you mean he didn’t leave?” A bitter, pissed-off laugh escapes me. “So… he just turned invisible and fucked off, huh?”
Sam flinches at my tone. “I just… I just mean our Christopher didn’t leave the hallway. But some other people did come and go.”
I lick my teeth, the frustration and fear twisting together into something ugly. “He’s…” I shake my head through another harsh laugh. “You’re gonna tell me he’s been… kidnapped, aren’t you, Sam?”
Sam looks sheepish, almost apologetic. “I-I think so, sir. It’s the only explanation that fits.”
Luke turns in his chair. “Boss, can you think of anyone you might have recognised? Anyone acting dodgy or threatening?”
I rub my temples hard, trying to think straight. The morning flashes through my mind… Kit’s shy smile in the Apple Store, the way he’d dragged me around like I was his oversized bodyguard, the milkshake, the way he’d held my hand without hesitation. Everything had been… good. Really good.
“I don’t…” I mutter, eyes still closed. “We just went shopping, for fuck’s sake. Everything was going alright. No one spoke to us other than staff.”
Luke nods and stands. “I’ll link the footage to your laptop so you can go over it in your study.”
“Good.” I nod once. “That’s where I’ll be. Don’t bother me unless it’s important. And no one stops working on this. You can eat, sleep, and piss at different times.”
They both nod. I stand here for a moment longer, staring at the wall of screens, the frozen frames of the mall corridors mocking me. Then I clear my throat, turn on my heel, and leave without another word. The hallway feels colder on the way back.
◆◆◆
I shove the study door open harder than I mean to and step inside, the heavy wood slamming against the wall behind me. The sound echoes, but I don’t care.
My suit jacket feels like it’s strangling me.
Too tight, too restrictive, too fucking everything right now.
I rip it off and hurl it across the room onto one of the leather couches.
It lands crooked, one sleeve dangling off the arm like a broken wing.
I yank the top three buttons of my shirt open, then roll the sleeves up to my elbows with sharp, impatient movements.
The fabric still feels too warm against my skin.
I drop into my chair, the leather creaking under my weight, and stab the power button on the laptop.
While it boots up, I drag both hands through my hair and then down my face, pressing my palms hard against my eyes until I see stars.
My heart is still hammering like I’ve just run a mile.
Nervous doesn’t even cover it… I feel sick.
I navigate straight to the folder Luke sent, load the footage, and the screen fills with dozens of small camera feeds… every angle of the mall, every corridor, every entrance near those goddamn bathrooms. I scroll the timestamp back to the moment we arrived and hit play.
I watch us. I watch Kit’s small hand in mine. I watch the way he looked up at the entrance with that wide-eyed wonder, the shy little smile tugging at his lips when Selina teased him. I watch him glance at me, cheeks pink, like he couldn’t quite believe I was really there with him.
My chest tightens painfully. That smile. I didn’t know it then, but that might have been the last time I ever saw it, the thought hits like a fist to the ribs. I lean forward, elbows on the desk, staring at the frozen image of his face on the screen… soft, hopeful, and trusting. My throat burns.
I keep watching. Three different strangers in the space of ten minutes barge straight into him like he doesn’t exist, like he’s just an obstacle in their way because he’s small.
Kit’s shoulders hunch every single time and his face drops; that bright little spark vanishing for a split second before he forces it back.
He never complained, not once; like he was used to being invisible.
It pisses me off instantly. He’s fragile. Today was already hard for him and I let him walk through that crowd like he was nothing. I should have noticed; I should have kept him closer. I should have…
“FUCK!”
The word tears out of me like a roar. I stand so fast the chair slams backward into the wall.
My arm sweeps across the desk, sending papers, pens, and an empty glass crashing to the floor, shattering.
I kick the side of the desk hard enough that pain shoots up my leg, then drag both hands through my hair and pull, the sharp sting grounding me for half a second before the rage boils over again.
I’m breathing hard, chest heaving, vision tunnelling. He was right there, holding my hand, smiling at me. And now he’s gone.
I storm over to the cabinet in the corner, yank it open, and grab the first bottle my fingers touch, expensive whiskey, doesn’t matter.
I don’t bother with a glass. I twist the cap off and take a long, burning pull straight from the bottle, the liquid scorching down my throat.
I lean against the cabinet, bottle dangling from my fingers, and stare at my laptop still playing the footage on loop.
Where the fuck are you, Kit? And what the hell am I supposed to do if I can’t get you back?