Chapter 26 Iwake up to a quiet house and an empty bed. I reach for Nicole but meet only cool sheets. Fog clings to my thoughts as I try to recall whether she ever slipped into bed last night, but nothing solid surfaces. I sit up slowly, rubbing a hand across my face as unease flickers in my gut. It's earlier than I usually wake up. Weak sunlight barely stretches across the windows, and only a handful of birds chirp. I pull on a shirt and check the bathroom. She isn't there either. In fact, there's no trace of her at all. I'm shocked at how quickly I've grown accustomed to her presence. I used to relish an empty bed, but now her absence presses against me like a bruise. And this morning, more than ever, my gut insists something is wrong. I go to her room to knock on the door, but there's no answer. I walk the garden paths in case she went for a stroll, but they're empty. None of the staff have seen her this morning, and the kitchen shows no trace of brewed coffee or a hastily made breakfast. Finally, I head to Mom's suite. If Nicole were anywhere on the property, she'd be at Mom's bedside. But when I poke my head in, my mother is still sleeping soundly and there's no sign that Nicole's been here either. Panic finally sinks its claws into me. I hurry back to her room and don't bother knocking. I shove the door wide and find the bed unmade-and every trace of Nicole gone. She left. What the hell? I go to my office and shut the door, my pulse hammering with equal parts worry and disbelief. Why would she just leave without saying anything to me? We'd finally reached a good place, I thought. We were in here just last night, defiling my desk. What changed between then and now that could cause her to leave? I pull out my phone and dial her number, but it rings twice before going straight to voicemail. I call again, and hit the same dead end. I pace, trying to think. I left her in here alone. Shit. Did she see something that scared her? Did she finally glimpse the truth about me? I have to find her, to explain who I am and why I didn't tell her sooner. I call Sasha and tell him she's missing, ask what the hell to do next. He tells me to get the grounds' security footage and he'll take care of the rest. I try to keep the edge from my voice when I call Viktor, the guard covering perimeter duty this morning. "Pull the camera feeds," I say. "My mother's nurse slipped out overnight. I need timestamps and a trail." "Yes, boss." He doesn't ask why-though I've never made this request before. My hand clenches around my phone as I pace the office, my thoughts racing too fast to catch. We were fine last night. We were ravenous for each other, in fact. Not even twelve hours have passed since I bent her over this very desk and she turned my darkest fantasies real. The possibility that she left willingly sits like a stone in my chest. If she found out what I do, I could at least understand it, even if it would still gut me. But what if she didn't leave on her own? I don't let myself finish that thought. The door bursts open, and Sasha barrels in with his hair rumpled and shirt half-buttoned, like he ran out before he could finish dressing. Hell, after my frantic call, he probably did. "They found her car." He's breathless. My blood goes cold. "Where?" I ask sharply. "Ten minutes from the gate," he says quickly. "Off the service road near the south bend. It was empty, driver's window busted out." I'm already storming down the hall. "Any signs of her?" "No," Sasha says, falling into step beside me. "No blood. No signs of a struggle. But the car was still running." Fuck. "Could she have ditched it?" I ask, just ticking boxes. "And go where?" Sasha counters. "She wouldn't just walk off into the woods, not at night. And her bag's still in the car. Her purse, wallet, and even her phone. I don't know any woman who would just disappear without those essentials." I stop just inside the front doors and face him. "You think someone took her?" Sasha hesitates. "Nothing else makes sense," he finally admits. I drag a hand down my face, fighting the surge of rage clawing up my throat. "Do you think it was Semion?" I ask flatly. "It very well could be," Sasha agrees, his voice cautious. We both know that if this is Semion, he's effectively declared war on our organization. Such a bold and personal attack warrants no less. I grab my phone and send out an alert. Every man within fifty miles receives the mobilization alert. Everyone needs to get to the compound ASAP so we can plan our next move. "She couldn't have gone far," I growl. "Pull road surveillance. Check the gas station cameras on the main road, the tunnel cams, and traffic feeds. I want eyes on every possible route she could have taken. And find out what time she left." "I'm already on it," Sasha says, pulling out his phone. "And I'll call Dmitri. He has back-door access to the NYPD systems. If anyone reports a missing woman, or a Jane Doe ends up in a hospital⁠-" "Don't," I snap, cutting him off. "She's not going to be a fucking Jane Doe." He pauses, studying me carefully. "I didn't mean to insinuate⁠-" "I know what you meant," I say, quieter this time. "Just find her." "I will," he promises. "We will." He heads back out, leaving me alone with my thoughts. This is my fault. I thought I could shield her from the violence of my world and focus on us. I believed that if she stayed close and remained in the dark, we could avoid this exact scenario. She was never supposed to get involved with this side of my life. I start pacing again, my mind running through everything I could've done to prevent this from happening. I don't have any answers yet, but I will find them. And when I do, God help whoever stands between us. The seconds drag. The minutes crawl. I prowl my office like a caged animal ready to pounce. Every glance at my phone yields nothing useful. Everyone is on red alert; they know to send me a message the second they find anything. Their silence offers no comfort. It's a stark reminder of what a failure I am. I can't even find her. At some point during the hellish wait, my mother slips into the office, silk robe loose at her waist, slippers whispering over the hardwood. She looks pale but otherwise steady. She hasn't been out of bed much since her stroke, so seeing her like this feels like a miracle. But I know it was all thanks to Nicole. "Mom, you should get back in bed," I tell her gently, draping an arm around her shoulders and steering her toward the door. "No, you don't," she argues, turning on me with more force than I realized she was capable of. "Where is Nicole? What did you do to upset her?" Her chastising tone blindsides me, and suddenly I feel six years old again, scolded for shattering an antique vase. "She left, Mom," I say, giving her only the bare minimum. I can't bear for her to blame me, too. "But I'm trying to find her and bring her back." "See that you do," she commands, her shoulders rolled back and her posture stiff. She's every bit the ferocious matriarch I've known my whole life, even after her near-death experience. "Once you find her, you let me know." "I will," I promise, even though the vow tastes hollow. I will if I can find her, that is. She nods once and offers a small, maternal smile before leaving me alone again. It takes everything in me not to scream. I need something, some tangible proof that she's okay. At last my phone rings, the name on the screen yanking me into motion. I answer without a greeting, my tone already cold. "Where is she?" I demand. "Ah, Sergei," Semion drawls, the satisfaction in his voice igniting a fuse in my chest. "So eager. You must really like this one." "If you've laid a fucking hand on her⁠-" "She's safe," he cuts in. "For now." I clench my jaw so tightly my teeth hurt. "Tell me what you want." "It's simple," he says casually, like we're discussing the fucking weather. "Give me the Westside docks. And the two warehouses on Pier 18." My fingers curl into a fist around the phone. That's a significant and valuable chunk of our territory, both financially and strategically. He knows the demand is impossible; that's why he needed leverage this heavy. "You don't get to make demands, you piece of shit," I snarl. "I just did," he replies, calm as ever. "You give me what I want, and you get the girl back. No bloodshed. No complications. But if you hesitate too long, I can't guarantee her safety." My stomach drops. I know Semion doesn't do empty threats. He means every word, and he'll put her through hell. I wouldn't wish his brand of torture on my worst enemy, and imagining Nicole in his clutches turns my blood to ice. "I'll do it," I say finally, voice sharp as a blade. "You get the docks. And the warehouses." Semion hums. "Wise choice." "I want her back," I demand. "Tonight." "You'll have her. Once I see movement on the territory." He ends the call before I can say another word. The door swings open and Sasha steps inside, face grim. "No news," he says, cutting straight to the chase. "It doesn't matter," I tell him, holding up my phone. "Semion just called." "What did he say?" he asks, his eyes alight with anger. "He's got her. Wants the Westside and Pier 18 in exchange." Sasha's eyes go wide. "You're not actually considering giving him that!" he shouts. "That's more than half of our income." I stare at him for a long beat, the fire in my chest crystallizing into something colder and sharper. "I'm going to let him think I am," I say, low. "But there's no way in hell that bastard gets away with touching my woman. He's going to wish he never had." Sasha's lips curve into a cruel, knowing grin. "Good," he growls. "Because I'm ready to bury him." In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...