51. Nik

Chapter 51

Nik

It didn’t have to be like this.

Night has fallen, and I can’t keep still. For the hundredth time in the past hour, I shove back from my desk and pour myself another drink. The amber liquid burns its way down, but it does nothing. No comfort. No distraction. Nothing.

Sitting is impossible, so I pace. Aimlessly. My steps echo in the silence, the only sound breaking the stillness of the office.

The tightness in my chest has been building for hours, a crushing pressure worse than any bullet wound I’ve ever taken. It’s like a steel band wrapped around my ribs, squeezing tighter with every shallow breath. My heart feels trapped in a vise, locked in place, and it won’t let go.

But then there’s the sweat, damp on my skin, even as I shiver from the cold that’s settled deep in my bones. I roll up my sleeves, desperate for relief, and glance at the thermostat. Sixty-five degrees—somehow.

I stride to the windows behind my desk, resting my palms on the cold glass. The lack of insulation lets in just enough of the night air to make me feel marginally less suffocated. I press my forehead to the window, my breath fogging the glass, and stare at the city lights below without really seeing them.

Inhale. Exhale.

It’s all I can do—force myself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Again. But it doesn’t help. The moment I let my mind wander, it spirals right back to her.

Kat.

Her face is burned into my mind, clear as if she were standing in front of me. That look in her eyes—the hurt, the desperation, the betrayal—it cuts through me like a blade.

It doesn’t matter if my eyes are open or closed. She’s there either way.

I try to push the image away, but it clings to me, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. And with every passing second, it gets worse. Her expression becomes sharper, the echo of her voice louder, accusing me over and over for what I’ve done.

It’s been hours, but I already know I’ll never forgive myself for locking her in that room. Not in this life. Not in the next.

Maybe, if we survive this awful night, she might forgive me. One day. That thought—the barest glimmer of hope—is the only thing holding me together right now. Even though I know I don’t deserve it.

A sudden commotion outside my office snaps me from my thoughts.

Shouting—loud, frantic, Russian—thunders in the hallway, overlapping and urgent, before cutting off as abruptly as it started.

The whispers that follow are quieter, hurried, barely audible through the thick door.

I sigh, dragging a hand down my face as I straighten. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. It never is.

If only a pakhan could afford the luxury of personal days.

The knock on the door is hesitant, almost apologetic. I grit my teeth and bark the order in Russian to enter. The door creaks open, and Dmitri and Vladimir step inside.

Dmitri’s face is the perfect picture of impassive deference, which can only mean one thing: something truly awful has happened.

Cold dread knots in my stomach as I drop into my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What is it now?” I snap, not bothering to mask my irritation.

The two exchange a quick, uneasy glance.

“Nik…” Dmitri begins cautiously, his voice unusually polite. He pauses, clearly searching for the right words, which only tightens the knot in my stomach. “I need you to stay calm.”

Ice spreads through my chest. “Out with it, Dmitri,” I demand sharply. “I’m not in the mood for your games tonight.”

He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, glancing at Vladimir before meeting my eyes again. “Nik…” he starts again, slower this time, like he’s treading on thin ice. “Kat’s gone.”

For a second, the words don’t register. I stare at him, unblinking, my brain struggling to make sense of what he’s just said. “She’s what ?” I roar, the sound so guttural it doesn’t even feel like it comes from me. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Intellectually, I know the words are mine, but emotionally, it feels like I’m watching myself shout from outside my body.

“She’s gone,” Dmitri says quickly, his words tumbling out now, trying to placate me. “She escaped. After finishing my rounds, I came back to check on her and you—I heard about your fight—and when I unlocked the bedroom door… she wasn’t there. No one saw her leave. She’s just… gone. Pretty much without a trace.”

The room seems to spin, but the one thing I can feel is my heart slamming viciously in my chest like it’s trying to break free. The rhythm is terrifyingly erratic—adrenaline, cardiac arrest, a panic attack? Maybe all three.

“How the fuck did this happen?” I hiss, my voice quiet, even as rage roars through my veins. “What kind of backyard operation am I running here that this woman can escape twice in two fucking days without anyone noticing? Should I expect McGuire himself to greet me in my own fucking kitchen tomorrow? I’ll have both your heads on a spike when I find her. Clearly, if I need something done, I have to do it myself.”

I hope the venom in my voice cuts deep because it should. I want every useless fool in my bratva —including the idiots scurrying outside my door—to hear me and understand the consequences of their failure. Once Kat is safe, I’ll make it my personal mission to ensure every single one of them pays for their incompetence.

Through gritted teeth, I manage, “Stop staring at me and get your worthless asses out there. Spread the word: every single man in my bratva will scour this city until she’s found. No one will rest, eat, or sleep until she’s back. And if any harm has been done to even one hair on her head, I will personally ensure that the same pain is inflicted tenfold on every man on watch tonight. No one has ever known pain like what I will unleash if anything happens to her. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

They scramble to leave, the door slamming shut behind them, but I’m already moving.

The first thing I try is tracking Kat’s phone. Waste of time. The tracker says it’s still at the penthouse. She didn’t bring it. I knew I should’ve implanted a sub-dermal tracker while she slept. This is exactly what I get for going soft.

I grab my car keys, taking the stairs two at a time, too impatient to bother with the elevator.

For a moment, I consider calling A.J., but I push the thought aside. She won’t tell me anything, and I don’t have time to waste threatening her into cooperation.

Instead, I drive. No plan, no destination—just pure adrenaline as I search for any trace of Kat. Every darkened street and shadowed corner feels like a dead end.

McGuire’s men are watching the penthouse—I know that much. My only hope is that they haven’t found her yet. Maybe McGuire will contact me for ransom, demand something in exchange. I can only pray it’s not his daughter. If it is… well, that’s a problem I’ll deal with when the time comes.

Hours pass. Each tick of the clock feels like a countdown to disaster. My fear curdles into frustration, then anger. Why does she have to be so goddamn reckless? Doesn’t she see I’m trying to protect her? After everything we’ve been through, how could she do this?

She knows what she means to me. She knows she owns me, has me wrapped around her finger, and yet she uses that power to torment me.

Finally, I admit defeat. Driving aimlessly is wasting time I can’t afford. Kat is too clever for me to stumble upon her by chance. If I’m going to find her, I need to be smart. And if McGuire has her, I need to be ready to meet his demands.

I return to the penthouse. The silence is oppressive, the empty space almost mocking. No one’s back. No news. No leads.

I head to my office, shutting the door behind me like it might block out the eerie stillness. Sitting at my desk, I think of Lucien. If anyone can help me, it’s him. I grab my phone, scrolling for his number, praying he picks up immediately.

But before I can press the button, the door to my office flies open with a crash.

Startled, I look up, my breath catching in my throat.

And there she is.

Kat stands in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the shadows of the room behind her. For a moment, I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

My heart stutters, then slams against my ribs like it’s trying to claw its way out. She’s here. She’s safe.

And for the first time in hours, the crushing pressure eases, and I can finally take a full breath.

I stand up so fast I slam into the desk. My chair rolls back with a screech, but I barely notice. My hands grip the desk's warm mahogany surface for support as my legs threaten to give out beneath me.

“Kat…” That one word falls from my lips as a prayer, a benediction, and a thank-you all rolled into one.

Her blue eyes lock onto mine, burning hotter and brighter than I’ve ever seen. Her jaw clenches, her teeth grinding audibly as she growls, “ You .”

I want to run to her, to wrap my arms around her, and never let her go. I want to drop to my knees, beg for her forgiveness, and swear I’ll spend the rest of my life fixing everything—just as long as she stays with me forever. Hell, I’d crawl if it would make a difference. But I can’t move.

My body has betrayed me. The adrenaline that kept me going all day abandons me. My legs feel like jelly, and I don’t trust them to carry me to her. As relief floods my veins like poison, I don’t even trust myself not to pass out like a goddamn idiot.

“ You ,” she repeats, her voice sharper this time, cutting like a blade.

She looks different. I can’t put my finger on it, but she’s never looked more beautiful—or more furious. Her flushed skin practically glows, and her dark hair—normally so sleek and composed—is a wild halo of waves around her face.

She’s fire and ice, looking almost otherworldly as her glare, filled with fury and life, steals the air from my lungs.

Her blue eyes, dark and endless like the ocean, never leave my face as she stalks toward me, every step deliberate and full of purpose.

I can’t move. Can’t speak. All I can do is watch as she closes the distance between us, stopping just inches away.

She digs into her pocket and pulls something out, her movements sharp and precise. Before I can process what’s happening, she flicks her wrist, and the object hits my chest. I catch it reflexively.

I glance down, and the world stops.

The Flame of Mir rests in my palm, its blood-red facets glinting under the light. My mind scrambles to make sense of it. How is it here? Why is it here?

“There,” she says coldly. “We’re done now.”

She turns on her heel and heads for the door. But at the threshold, she stops, glancing over her shoulder.

“A few months ago, A.J. decided to run a game on Giuseppe Salvatore. I trust I don’t have to tell you who he is." Her voice is flat, like she’s reading from a script she’s recited a thousand times in her head. "It didn’t go well. He caught her, and since he had her, he had me. You can imagine how that went. Blackmail, threats—the usual. He made me do things, including stealing the Flame of Mir from that museum gala. He was very specific about the whole thing—his terms, his timeline, no negotiation. I thought giving him what he wanted would buy us some peace, at least for a while. But clearly, fate had other ideas.”

Her laugh is sharp and bitter, stripped of any trace of humor.

“Kat, I…” My words catch in my throat, anger and disbelief rising like a tidal wave. “What the fuck , Kat? Why am I just now hearing this? Why didn’t you come to me? When shit happens, you come to me . You don’t run. You don’t hide—you come to me! ”

Her lips tighten, but I press on. “Now that I know, here’s what’s going to happen. Giuseppe Salvatore will die screaming. Tonight, I’ll find him, and I’ll kill him myself. Even if it’s the last thing I do. McGuire can wait.”

“That right there,” she snaps, her voice trembling with fury, “is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Do you think I want more of your blood spilled? Or Dmitri's? Or even fucking Vladmir's? Do you think I want my people dead? I don’t want this life for me, for A.J., or you. You're missing the point, Nik.”

“No, I'm not,” I say, my voice breaking. “I know I failed you. I don’t deserve to even breathe the same air as you. But if you give me a chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’ll never stop trying to earn your forgiveness, even if it takes forever. Please, Kat. Just give me one chance.”

She stares at me, her expression unreadable. For a moment, I think she might say yes. Her anger softens, replaced by something else—something deeper. But then she shakes her head, tears glistening in her eyes.

“No,” she whispers.

The air leaves my lungs in one painful rush. “No?”

Her voice shakes, but she stands firm. “I warned you, Nik. I told you there was no coming back from what you did today. You didn’t listen. You locked me away. You risked everything I care about. If I hadn’t escaped, A.J. would be dead. And maybe you too.”

She takes a deep breath, her shoulders trembling. “I can’t live like this. I can’t live your life. I don’t want it. I can’t do this anymore. I want peace. I want safety. I want to go to bed without wondering who’ll survive the night. And I want to be with someone I can trust.”

I step toward her, desperation clawing at my chest. “Kat, don’t say that. Don’t do this. I’ll give you anything. Anything.”

Her expression softens for a fleeting second, but then she shakes her head again. “All I want is to be alone. If you care about me, you’ll honor that. Stay out of my life. Don’t come after me. Don’t follow me. Don’t contact me. Just… let me go.”

Her words crush me. My breath hitches as I watch her turn away.

She turns and walks through the doorway. Outside the office, she pauses, her steps slowing as she glances back over her shoulder. “I hope you find peace, Nik. I really do. Instead of whatever it is you’ve been looking for all this time…”

And then she’s gone.