Nothing.
“Do you have a brother?”
This gets a flicker of movement, ragged breaths wheezing from him. His eyes peel open, and my lungs seize.
Bright fucking blue just like my Zahkar’s.
How can this be?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Zahkar
Itap the pen on the desk repeatedly, every muscle pulled taut and aching from being stiff since Alyona went off the grid sixty-six hours ago. Since it feels like my shirt is strangling me, I unbutton a couple of the buttons and blow out a breath.
“You’re driving me insane,” Rodion groans, rubbing scruff that’s grown along his jaw while he watches the home monitors where Roza is playing with the new nanny we hired.
She’s a sixty-year-old former teacher with over a decade of child-minding experience and a recommendation list as long as my arm. Her family has a background in farming, zero criminal records, not even a parking ticket. Mrs. Potts is a damn saint, but Rodion still doesn’t fully trust anyone to watch our kid.
“I’ve always driven you insane. What’s new?” I say with a light shrug, trying to mask my own rising anxiety. Restless energy surges through me and I can’t sit still. I’m driving myself insane. “I think we should be at home and not stuck in this office.”
He glances around, taking in the boxes by the desk and the stack of paperwork I still need to go through, then exhales sharply, blowing a frustrated breath through his teeth. “We agreed to finish the preparations for the launch. Plus, we have the security cameras set up at home, so we can keep an eye out for her if she shows up.”
I shake my head, feeling the weight of worry simmer in my chest. “It just feels so wrong to be here, doing mundane shit, that we pay enough people to do for us, while she’s out there somewhere, alone, and we have no idea if she’s safe.” The frustration gnaws at me, amplifying my need to be wherever the fuck she is.
“You were the one who insisted we should trust her,” he remarks, his expression turning steely as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“Since when do you listen to me?” I mutter, a sulky tone creeping into my voice.
I crumple a piece of paper in my hand and fling it toward the bin, watching it miss and land on the floor instead.
Damn this woman. She’s got me fifty shades of fucked up.
“Always,” he shoots back, a scoff escaping his lips. “Ialwayslisten to you.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t have.” I stretch my back to ease the tension that has settled there. My gaze drifts toward the flyer we had designed for this weekend. It’s sleek and striking, more like an elegant invitation than a simple advertisement, printed on rich black cardstock and embellished with gold lettering. Apparently, old-school methods are still the best way to spread the word, along with the ad placements we’ve sunk a shit ton of money into.
Rodion gets to his feet and approaches my desk, spreading his hands on it and leaning in close to my face. He smells good and I miss him, but I can barely sleep, hardly eat, and use all theenergy I can muster to try and keep a calm façade for Roza. My dick is on a hiatus until Alyona is back.
“We did everything we could to locate her, Z," he says, frustration evident in his voice. "Her phone is off, and her passport hasn't been used, neither in her new name nor her real one. There have been no bank withdrawals or credit card activities. The mall cameras lose track of her once she reaches the parking lot. We have nothing.”
“I know this.” I throw the pen across the desk, and it clatters against an empty glass. “We have six hours,” I state, checking the clock again.
“Abram is under threat of death to locate her and not go to Ven or our father. He will find her this time.”
“Or she’ll keep her promise and return home,” I say, hope flickering limply in my chest like a flame under the pressure of a downpour.
“They will want to see me,” a voice says from down the hall. “Let me through.”
I roll my eyes and Rodion curses under his breath.
“There you are,” Vika says, walking into our office like she has an invite. “Where is Ally?”
Inhaling the patience I need to deal with this fucking woman, I groan. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Rude.” She places a hand to her chest in fake offense. “Is that a baby?” She points her manicured finger at the monitor which shows Roza now having her dinner.
“No, it’s a dog, Of course it’s a baby,” I snap.
