“Right away, sir.”
I hang up and finish getting dressed. The ring sits on the nightstand, mocking me. I pick it up and shove it deep in my pocket.
She married me. Laughed when she heard my name. Let me worship her body. Fell asleep in my arms.
Then she ran the second I closed my eyes.
My phone rings again. It’s Silas.
“Boss, Pedro filled me in. We’re on it.”
“I want results in an hour.”
“Boss, Vegas is?—”
“I don’t care how big Vegas is. Find her.”
I spend the morning watching the city get torn apart, looking for one woman. My men check every casino, every hotel lobby, every flight that left after 6:00 AM. They bribe desk clerks, security guards, and cab dispatchers. By noon, I know she’s gone and has left Vegas entirely, probably on the first flight out.
The smart move would be to let her go. Write it off as a drunken mistake and move on. But I’ve never been good at letting go of what’s mine.
And she’s mine now. The certificate and the ring in my pocket serve as proof.
After my meeting, I get on my plane and head home.
My penthouse is quiet when I walk in that evening. Alexi is sprawled on my office couch, scrolling through his phone. When he sees me, his face lights up.
“There’s my old man!” He jumps up and pulls his arm around my shoulder. “Missed you, Dad. How was Vegas?”
For a second, holding my son, I feel the nightmare fade. He’s solid and alive and whole. Not the broken kid from five years ago.
We’ve always looked alike. Same dark hair, same build. And now that he’s grown, the resemblance is even stronger. Sometimes I look at him and see myself at that age—cocky and fearless and stupid enough to think nothing could touch us.
Then I remember Viktor’s knife at his throat and how that fearlessness almost got him killed.
“Vegas was fine,” I say, pulling back. “How’s school?”
“Boring as hell.” He grins, that smile that means he wants something. He’s always been like this—turns on the charm when he needs a favor. “But I’ve been good. Mostly. Came by to see if you wanted to grab dinner.”
I move to my desk and pull up my phone. There are six texts with updates on the search.
All of them say the same thing—nothing.
“Can’t tonight. I’m busy.”
“Busy with what?” Alexi leans against the desk. “You’ve got the whole team running around like their hair’s on fire. Who are they looking for?”
I don’t look up. “My wife.”
Silence.
Then: “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“No, I really don’t think I did.” His voice goes up. “Did you just say your wife?”
I pour myself a drink. “Leave me alone, Alexi. Take the car if you want it.”
