Page 165 of Bleed with Me

Nina. My Nina drove that fucking car.

“I…” The bitter taste in my mouth almost made me gag. “Zyon…”

My hands started shaking so violently I nearly dropped the phone.

“Dorian.” My brother’s voice reached me through the roaring in my ears. “Stay with me.”

My chest locked so brutally it felt as though someone drove a knife between my ribs. Every horrible possibility my mind tried to bury came alive at once. Nina screaming. Nina bleeding. Nina fighting until there was nothing left in her. My vision blurred as the world threatened to tilt beneath my feet.

“Not now,” I whispered, bending over. “Not ever. She needs me.”

The thought struck with enough force to make me flinch. The panic didn’t disappear. I pushed it away because there was no time to waste.

“Dorian? Are you with me?” Zyon’s voice cut through the fog.

“Yes,” I confirmed, breathing hard. “Nina had the car.”

“Okay,” he replied, his own voice becoming calmer. “We’ll find her.”

“Of course.” I grabbed the kitchen counter so hard my knuckles turned white. “And we’re going to destroy whoever dared to touch her.”

“Consider it done,” he agreed. “Text me your house address. I’ll pick you up.”

Oh, hell, no. Aryna.

“Can’t. I have a kid in here.”

“A kid?” Zyon echoed in evident shock. “Since when do you have a kid?”

I dragged a hand over my face.

“Long story.” I walked toward the living room, my eyes fixed on the French windows where rain hammered against the glass. “Can she stay with you? With Zara and Valeria. She knows them.”

I looked toward the gun safe beneath the stairs where I locked all my belongings after officially leaving family business.

“Fine, but you have some explaining to do. Be ready.”

Zyon showed up at my door ten minutes later with a whole cavalry. Valeria came with him, wrapped in a long trench coat, saying only two sentences that made my breathing easier.

“Aryna is safe. Go find your woman.”

I slid into the passenger seat of Zyon’s Maserati, gripping my white Desert Eagle in my left hand and feeling my knives burn in their usual tactical positions. I hadn’t used them since the hunt on Aryna’s foster father with Malin. I kept them out of sight so I wouldn't be reminded of what I left behind, but fucking hell. I’d return to Zyon’s side with full force and destroy anyone who dared to put a hand on my wife.

“Do we know who did it?” I asked, tapping the gun against my knee. I was seconds from going on a killing spree, not caring who got caught in a crossfire. If I had to burn the city down just to find her, so be it.

That’s my boy, the demon whispered, smiling proudly. Finally using his full potential.

“No.” Zyon shook his head, disturbing my inner conversation. “We have some clues, but nothing solid. Ideas?”

“I’m trying to contact Matteo,” I replied, fishing my phone out of my jacket. “I called him seventeen times, but he just isn’t picking up.”

“Why Matteo?” Zyon frowned, speeding through the pouring rain like a maniac.

“His brother is Nina’s best friend. But I don’t have his number.” I hit my head against the car's headrest and shut my eyes. Helplessness momentarily almost paralyzed me. I knew no one from Nina’s life who could help us, except for her father, who was reportedly out of state, her best friend, and the fucker she was arranged to marry. But according to my information, which Stella immediately provided, Sonny Carlile was playing poker in Jersey.

In the meantime, Zyon called someone, and two minutes later, Matteo called him back. Of course, my brother knew where the imbecile was. One sentence from him and the text with Lucas’s number came on my phone.

Someone tell me again: why the fuck did I leave my brother’s organization?