“That’s all you have?”
Bronx turns away from the computer screenwith a shrug. “The only other thing I can tell you is that the phone is still downtown. If she got cut off…”
The room goes silent except for the hum of electronics and my own thundering heartbeat.
"If she got cut off, it’s because someone came for her and left the phone, thinking her location could be traced.” I pace the room, fisting the sides of my head. It could have been anyone. The Red Tribunal, her father, fucking Roman. And I don’t trust any of them.
“Reign," I bark. "Get the car. Now."
"Where are we going?"
"To find my wife." I point to Bronx. “You stay here. Use every resource we have. Traffic cameras, cell towers, facial recognition in that area. I don't give a shit what it costs. Fucking find her."
"Kingston, wait." Reign grabs my arm. "You need to think this through. If it's representatives of the Tribunal?—"
"If it's the Tribunal, then they just made the last and worst mistake of their fucking lives."
I shake off his hand and storm toward the elevator. Behind me, I hear Bronx's fingers hammering away at the keys, already working to track her down.
The twenty-minute ride back to my penthouse stretches into what feels like hours. Possibilities and scenarios stab at my brain, each one worse than the last.
The Tribunal found out about her conflicted loyalties. Roman took her. Her father decided she was more valuable as a martyr than a spy.
By the time I reach my floor, I'm ready to tear the city apart brick by brick to find her.
I step out of the elevator and into thefoyer. The place feels different without her in it. Empty in a way that has nothing to do with furniture or space.
I head straight for our bedroom, looking for signs of what happened, what she took, what she left behind.
Her side of the closet is mostly empty, but not completely. Looks like she packed in a hurry, taking only essentials.
The jewelry box on her dresser is open, things scattered on the surface like she was looking for something specific.
I sink onto the bed, covering my face with my hands.
“Fuck, Livvie, where are you?” I mutter.
With a deep sigh, my shoulders slump and I fall back onto her pillow. Something crunches against the back of my head. I reach behind me and my fingers find a wrinkled piece of paper.
My hands shake as I bring it in front of my face.
Kingston,
I know you probably think I threw your necklace away or left it behind to spite you. I should have never taken it off. And I want you to know that it meant everything to me. Not because of what it was worth, but because you chose it for me. You saw the music notes and thought I'd like them. That's the man I fell in love with.
I'll treasure it always.
I'm sorry for everything.
Your wife,
Livvie
The paper crumples in my fist. She didn't abandon the necklace. She fucking cherished it.
And that tracker might be the only thing that can save her life.
I grab my phone and access the tracker app. My heart swells in my chest when I see the red blinker flash on my screen.
