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He says it like it’s nothing. Like I can just undo what I did three weeks after I pulled my dead baby daughter out of a bathtub and buried her in a tiny coffin as my entire world fell apart.
“You know why I did it, Ryker. You know what your mother did.”
“I know, Dad.” He was six years old when it happened, and a teenager when I found the words to tell him the truth. He’s twenty-four now, and I know it still sits in his chest the same way it sits in mine. “I know you came home and are the one who found them. Just like I know you blame yourself for not loving Mom or seeing how bad of a state she was in.”
“Then you know why I can’t do this again.”
“What I know is that Mom was sick. But you’ve spent all these years punishing yourself, and every woman since, because you think your own indifference killed your daughter.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ryker.” He’s not just pushing a bruise, he’s cutting the scar back open, and I can’t fucking go there.
“Fine.” Ryker leans back in his chair and his tone shifts. His expression has turned cold. “So let’s just stick with the plan. I’ll marry her and enjoy fucking my pretty little wife. I’ll move her into the new house you bought. And since you’re done with her, I’m done holding back.”
My jaw tightens. “That was always the plan.”
“Good.” He takes a drink, then rises from his chair standing in front of my desk. “Then I’m going to enjoy fucking all of her tight little holes. You made her the perfect little slut wife, Dad, so thank you for that. I’m going to put a collar on her so she knows who owns her now. Then I’ll tie her to my bed and keep her filled with my cum.”
“Ryker,” I grind out in warning.
He holds my stare and rests his fists on my desk to face me, not blinking. “The sound of her begging me to fuck her is going to be so fucking sweet. She’s got a new Daddy now.”
I’m out of my chair and around my desk before I know I’m moving. My hand closes around my son’s throat, and his back slams into the wall so hard a frame crashes to the floor. My forearm pins his chest. My face is an inch from his, and the rage pouring through me is so hot I can taste it.
“She’s mine.” The words rip out of me from somewhere I didn’t know still existed. “She’s fucking mine. She’ll never beg for you. You will never fucking touch her again. Do you fucking hear me?”
Ryker doesn’t fight back. He doesn’t flinch. He just looks at me with my hand around his throat, and a knowing grin spreads across his face.
“Now tell me again that you don’t love her.”
“Goddamnit, Ryker.” My hand drops. I step back and my chest is heaving and my fists are shaking at my sides. I should have seen what he was doing, but my brain couldn’t handle imagining her wanting anyone but me.
I fight to catch my breath as Ryker rubs his neck. I need to fucking see her. Right now. I need a glimpse of her while I figure out what the fuck to do.
I pull out my phone and swipe to the camera feeds. She isn’t in her room, so I start scanning cameras from the rest of the house. She’s nowhere in the house, or the pool, or the gym, or the guest house. She’s not on any feed.
“Ryker.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. “I don’t see her anywhere.”
He’s beside me, looking at the screen. “Pull it up on your laptop so we can trace where she went.”
I rush to my desk and flip my laptop open. Ryker is standing over my shoulder, pulling up the feeds on his phone.
The feeds are playing across my screen as I rewind them looking for any sign of her. I finally find her in the hallway with a backpack.
She’s moving fast. Down the service stairs. Through the side door. Across the grounds toward the gate. Fuck. God-fucking-damnit.
I check the timestamp on the video and my stomach hits the floor. She left over thirty minutes ago. She could be anywhere by now.
“She took cash and your Patek Philippe.” Ryker shows me his phone with her in my bedroom.
I pull up the app I have to track her phone, and the phone is here at the house. She didn’t take it with her. I knew I should have had a tracker put in her. Fuck, that is the first thing I’m doing when we get her back. After I spank her.
But we have to get her back first. If the Ravens get her, they’ll never give her back. This is proof we can’t control her, and they’ll give her to someone who will.
“Fuck.” I shove back from the desk. My hands are in my hair, and I can’t breathe. I know exactly what they do to girls who run, and the thought of anyone putting hands on her makes my vision go black. “I need to see Dane Sinclair. Right fucking now.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t just go after her?” Ryker asks, already going to the safe in my study to gather weapons. “He’s going to send the Talons after her. There’s no telling what he’ll do. He’ll notify the rest of the Council.”
The longer she’s out there, the more danger she’s in. And the Ravens have eyes everywhere. The sooner we find her and control the narrative, the better the chance we all have.
