I don’t stop running until I catch sight of a yellow cab with the light on coming toward me, a few blocks over from the Sullivan estate. I start waving my hands and jumping up and down to try and get his attention, even though it’s almost nine at night and the streets are pretty much completely deserted.
As soon as it comes to a stop, I climb into the backseat and rattle off Mila’s address.
The cab driver looks a little startled, and I can understand why. I must look like I’ve just been running from a kidnapper, but I don’t have time to give him a fake story. I just need him to drive.
“Please,hurry.”
The ride to Mila’s apartment feels like it takes forever, even though the driver is doing his best to weave through the traffic as we head deeper into the city.
My foot taps against the floor the entire way as my mind spins with all the possible outcomes to this story.
Every second that passes is one Mila might not have, and if anything were to happen to her…
God, I don’t even want to finish that thought.
I can’t lose any more of my family. I just can’t.
When the cab finally pulls up outside her building, I toss a couple of bills at the driver and jump out before the car fully stops.
The street is quiet as I sprint down the sidewalk and hurry up the front steps of the building as I spy a delivery guy coming out.
“Hold the door!”
Ignoring the startled look on the guy’s face, I rush past him and take the stairs two at a time to Mila’s floor.
As I’d hoped, her spare key is beneath her doormat, and I let myself in, the scent of her vanilla and citrus perfume teasing my nose as I step inside.
The familiarity of Mila’s cozy apartment hits me harder than I expect, and I stagger backward and lean against the door as I look around.
I haven’t been here in weeks, yet it’s exactly how it usually is: immaculately clean, with little touches scattered throughout that let me know she was here.
The empty coffee mug beside the sink.
The open book on the sofa where she was reading.
The empty plate covered with toast crumbs.
“Mila…” I whisper her name under my breath, even though she’s not here to answer me.
I should feel relieved that there aren't any visible signs of a struggle, that it doesn’t look like she was taken by force, but that only leaves me with even more questions than answers.
I move through the living room, scanning every inch of the room for anything that might tell me where she went or what she was doing before she disappeared.
Her laptop is on the coffee table, but it’s locked, and I can’t try to work out her password because time is not on my side.
I could already be too late.
My throat thickens with tears at the thought.
“Where are you?”
Her purse is on the couch, which is unusual in and of itself. Mila never goes anywhere without it, claiming an outfit is never complete without a purse. But when I quickly search through it, only her phone is gone, which makes me think she was taken before she had a chance to grab anything else.
“Think, Ciara.Think.” I pace around the living room.
The only logical explanation is that Mila went over to Max’s place. It would explain why she was in danger, if she happened to interrupt her brother’s killer. But if that’s true, Ronan’s men surely would have seen her and stopped her?
Unless, of course, Ronan’s men are lying...
