“Please,” I mutter as the line rings. “Please, please, please. Cael, I need you.”
Each ring makes me shudder in anticipation and cling tighter to the phone.
“C’mon… please… answer…”
The line clicks, and I take in a deep breath.
“Hello?” comes the sound of Caelian’s rough voice, a touch of his Italian accent bleeding through.
I open my mouth to respond, feeling so lightheaded I could pass out, when a finger smashes on the catch hook of the desk phone. The line dies with a click, and my heart shrivels up along with it.
As good as dead.
Someone’s standing behind me. They’ve crept up and reached over me to hang up the call.
“Not so fast, ballerina,” the person whispers.
A sharp needle pricks my throat as everything goes black.
FOUR
Caelian
“C,you’ve got to calm down,” Ms. Poitier says. “All this rage isn’t good for your condition.”
“Fuck my condition!” I roar like a beast. My arms swing before my mind produces its next thought. I smash everything on the war-planning table to the ground. The maps and ammunition tumble to the floor as several people jump back in alarm.
They know better than to have any other reaction.
Nobody, not even Ms. Poitier, utters a word.
Tense silence holds the room captive as they stand frozen with bated breath.
It’s on my timetable—when my temper explodes, it’s up to me when things can resume as planned. The worst thing any of them could do would be to interrupt me during one of these moments.
My rage turns me into an animal. I’m a hulking, seething beast as I glare around the room and stalk over to the window.
Two of my saldatos stumble over their feet trying to get out of my way. One of them loses his balance and falls flat on his ass. But it’s better than remain in my path and incur my instant wrath.
I plod over to the window and peer out at the acres of woodsy terrain surrounding my property. The trees stretch on for miles and miles, so far that it would be impossible to traverse on foot. You’d die of dehydration and exhaustion if the arctic winter temperatures didn’t get you first.
Yetmia ballerinamade it.
She left me in the middle of the fucking night and must’ve survived.
I’d sense if she hadn’t.
Though it doesn’t make me any less furious. I bare my teeth at the woodsy scenery as if the towering trees and snow-capped mountain tops are the reason for Nevaeh’s absence.
“Keep searching,” I say to the men in the room. “Cover every inch of the land surrounding the estate.”
“C, we have,” Matteo pipes up. “We’ve searched the entire woodland?—”
“Cover every inch of the city,” I go on louder. “Turn Dresden upside down if you have to. Ballerinas do not disappear into thin air. She’s out there somewhere.”
“We’ve been all over the city. We haven’t had much luck.”
“You aren’t trying hard enough.”
