“Is Aunt Suzie okay?” Eliza’s voice is small and worried.
“Aunt Suzie is fine, baby,” I say. “I’ll explain everything, I promise. Let’s get out of here first, though, okay?”
We remain with the crowd until I spy a back hall, and I pull Eliza after me as I turn one way, then another, running past someone in a lab coat who yells at us to slow down. I keep going until I find a door far away from the main entrance.
Three blocks over and half a block up, I stop under a leafless tree and scoop Eliza into a tight hug, burying my face in her hair, inhaling her sweet, innocent scent. “We’re going on an adventure, sweetheart,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice light to hide the fear that still trembles through me.
It’s only minutes before a familiar white BMW pulls up to the curb with a giant, black Great Dane in the back, which makes the sleek machine look like a clown car.
“Benji!” Eliza cries, already scrambling into the back seat with the dog. I hurry to the other side of the car and collapse into the passenger seat, still shaking, still gasping for breath.
“You ready?” Suzie asks.
I nod, and so does she, so she pulls into traffic and away.
Far away.
Leaving my job, leaving the life I’ve slowly, painstakingly built for myself and Eliza.
Leaving Viktor.
The thought of him, of his intensity, his flawed attempts at affection, his terrifying control, brings a fresh wave of grief. I’m going to miss him, despite everything. The fleeting moments of connection, the way he looked at me sometimes, the comfort of his arms when he wasn’t trying to own me.
But the fear, the constant, gnawing fear, overrides everything else. These people, Viktor’s enemies, will never stop. They’ll keep coming for me, for us. And I can’t put Eliza through that. I can’t live a life constantly looking over my shoulder, constantly waiting for the next attack.
This is the only way. To disappear. To sever the ties, even if it means tearing a piece of my own heart out. New York, our lives here, Viktor—it all has to be left behind.
For Eliza. For the baby. For me.
23
VIKTOR
The phone rings, a harsh, insistent buzz against the polished wood of my desk. It’s Marius. Again. His calls are rarely good news, but ever since he called that day, I’m unsure whether to dread or desire them.
“What?” My voice is clipped, already anticipating a problem.
“Uncle,” Marius’s voice is strained, breathless. “She’s gone. Leah. And Eliza. They’re gone.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Gone. For a moment, my mind refuses to process them. “What do you mean ‘gone’?” My voice is low, dangerous. “You are with her. You are supposed to guard her.”
Has someone taken them? Have they succeeded in kidnapping Leah and her daughter?
“There was an attack,” my nephew explains, his voice tight with frustration and something else—shame? “On the way back to her office. Two shooters. Professionals. By the time I took them out, Leah was gone. And the guards at the museum say Eliza is gone too.”
“Someone took them?” I feel something well within me that I haven’t felt since I was a child: fear, hot and wild. “Who took them? Where did they take them?”
“I don’t know, Uncle.” Marius says before asking a question that sets me on my heels. “Do you think maybe she ran?”
No, that’s not possible. I won’t—can’t—believe it.
“Find them,” I snarl into the phone, my voice barely a whisper, but I know it carries the weight of my anger. “Find them, Marius. Do not rest. Do not sleep. Do not eat. Find them and bring them back.”
I end the call and slam the phone down onto the top of my desk before my nephew can respond, the sound echoing through the silent room.
My fists clench so tightly that my knuckles are white—my mind races, cold and calculating despite the fury still warring with the fear. Leah can’t just vanish into thin air. She has no resources, no network, no protection outside of what I provide. Is she with my as-yet-unnamed enemy? If so, why haven’t they contacted me to ransom the two of them for whatever they want? But I haven’t heard a thing. Either they messed up and Leah and Eliza are already dead, or Leah truly did run from me of her own volition.
I’m not sure which option is worse.
