I mutter her name under my breath, loud enough to carry through the empty halls.
Noelle.
The fear claws at me, sharp and real. She’s not just missing—she’s vulnerable. And if Anton even thinks….
I push the panic down, forcing my mind to function. I have to find her. Now. Every door, every shadow, every corner—she’s here somewhere. And if anyone tries to take her from me, they’ll regret it.
I stride over to the guest room where Sasha is still curled under the blanket, sunlight spilling softly across her face. I know it’s rude and mean, and I should let her sleep, but this is an urgent need. I clear my throat, and she jerks awake, scrambling up when she sees me.
“Niko?” She frowns, holding the sheet up to her body. “What—what’s going on? What are you doing?”
“Sasha,” I say, voice sharp. “Where’s Noelle?”
Her eyes flutter, bleary and confused. She blinks at me, squinting against the light.
“She’s probably asleep in her room,” she murmurs, still half-lost in sleep.
I tighten my jaw, shaking my head. “No. She’s not in the apartment.”
Sasha frowns, sitting up fully now, concern replacing sleepiness. “What do you mean? She’s—”
I cut her off, my voice low, tense. “She’s not here.”
Without waiting for more, I storm out of the room, leaving Sasha sitting up and blinking in alarm. My boots hit the floor hard as I push open the door to the terrace, my eyes scanning the empty spaces, the city beyond. Where the hell is she?
I storm down to the security station on the lower floor, the sound of my boots echoing like gunfire in the quiet hall. The guards look up, startled, a few flinching at the sharp edge in my voice.
“My wife isn’t in the house,” I bark. “Where is she?”
They look astonished. I already know they’re clueless about her whereabouts. My heart almost freezes.
“Why didn’t you catch her leaving?” I growl, glaring at each of them.
One of them swallows hard. “Sir…she never left. She’s been inside the building the whole time.”
I laugh, a short, bitter sound that doesn’t reach my eyes. “She’s not in the house. Clearly, she outsmarted you.” My fists clench at my sides, rage burning hotter with every word.
The guards shrink under my glare, their faces pale. Not one dares to contradict me further. I don’t wait. With a hard, impatient exhale, I push past them and head to the private elevator again, slamming the call button.
This time, I head to my office. Here, I call her again, but still, it doesn’t go through.
I pace the room, the quiet of the penthouse pressing in on me. My chest feels tight, like my heart is twisting in knots. Every second Noelle is missing, every thought of her out there alone, makes my blood boil hotter. I can’t believe she’d slip past the guards—she wouldn’t have, not without a reason. And yet…she’s gone.
I stop mid-step and run a hand down my face, trying to steady myself, trying to quiet the storm in my chest. I sink into the chair at my desk, leaning forward, elbows on my knees, just trying to think, trying to breathe. My fingers drum impatiently on the wood, a nervous rhythm I can’t shake.
And then my eyes catch it—the faint glow from the computer screen. My pulse jumps. The chair squeaks as I push myself up, heart hammering harder. The background information folder is open, the mouse frozen over a picture of Noelle’s mother with that damned little note I’d left: Kirill Seinoff.
I know who’s been here. My gut, every instinct in me, tells me it’s Noelle.
A sharp spike of panic hits me. Did she see the folder and…misinterpret? Did she think I’m some obsessive maniac, cataloging every thread of her life, and decide she needed space?Or did she see it, understand it, and get angry—furious that I’d dig so deep, even if it was for her safety?
I hate the not knowing. The uncertainty claws at me worse than any fight or gunfire ever could. My fists curl, then unclench, pacing again, every second stretching out like a rope around my throat. I need her back. I need to hear her voice. I need to know she’s safe. And I can’t do a damn thing until I find her.
The knot in my gut tightens.
Kirill.
I don’t trust him. Not one bit.
