17. Nik

17

It didn't have to be like this.

Night falls outside, and I struggle to stay still. I push away from my desk for what feels like the hundredth time in the past hour to pour myself another drink. But even as it burns down my throat, the amber-colored liquor provides very little comfort or distraction.

Unable to force myself to sit back down, I aimlessly and pointlessly pace in front of my desk instead.

For a moment, I consider turning my computer back on and trying to get some work done. An instant later, though, I admit there's no point in wasting my energy. I know I'm worthless right now, completely and utterly incapable of focusing on anything for more than a few seconds.

A particularly uncomfortable tightness has settled in my chest since I left Kat in the bedroom. The most horrible sensation has taken hold of me as the muscles around my ribcage and abdomen feel as if they begun to freeze into place, stiffening and losing elasticity. With each passing second, it gets harder and harder to breathe. As the minutes tick by, I almost fear that soon my heart won't be able to beat, as my core clutches it still.

Paradoxically, my skin feels clammy as I start to sweat despite feeling cold to my bones.

After rolling up my sleeves, I check the thermostat, surprised to see it's set to a balmy sixty-five degrees.

I walk over to the windows behind my desk, hoping that their less than stellar insulation will help adjust my confusing body temperature.

Unseeingly staring out the windows, I force myself to take a deep breath, slowly inhaling and exhaling. I even attempt to center my roaming thoughts, purposefully focusing on the mechanical aspect of simply breathing for a moment. All of it is a waste of time. Intrusive thoughts find their way back into my mind almost immediately.

Over and over again, Kat's face—as she looked when I locked her away—flashes in my mind. It doesn't matter whether I keep my eyes closed or open. I see her now almost as clearly as I saw her then. To make matters worse, as time goes by, the hurt and desperate look I saw in her beautiful eyes grows even more haunting.

I admit I have conflicting emotions about the chaotic way things escalated between the two of us earlier today. Truthfully, I can't help but feel a little justified in the course of action I took. After all, I pretty much begged Kat to be open and honest with me, and she refused. She didn't even bother giving me a good reason for her refusal. She can't expect me to trust her blindly under these extenuating circumstances.

It's not like I can trust Kat to take care of herself and be reasonable about her safety, either. Even if I disregard her long history of making reckless choices, I can't forget her little rebellious act. To sneak around like that—when she knows one of the most bloodthirsty men in the Seven Families is dying to get his hands on her—was incredibly foolhardy, even by her standards.

The mere idea of McGuire getting close enough to hurt her makes my blood run cold. I'm all for taking calculated risks, but this is one of the few instances where I will not roll the dice. If something were to happen to Kat, if McGuire were to take her from me as well… that would be it for me. There would be no surviving this loss. I simply wouldn't be able to function without her. Not anymore.

I've been around long enough to know that I'm not invincible or infallible. I know my strengths, just as I know my weaknesses. While McGuire remains at large and out for my blood, I'm more capable of keeping Kat safe when she's under my roof than when she is not. The man's a wild card on his best days. And ever since Erin went missing, I seriously doubt he's had many of those. For all his faults, it's no secret to anybody that he's a devoted father.

It's just a matter of probabilities. If Kat's here at home, where I know she's safe and sound, then her chances of making it through this nightmare unharmed are virtually one hundred percent. Out there, I simply can't guarantee these odds. There are too many variables. Faced with the choice between one hundred percent and anything less, I'm choosing the former every day of the week and twice on Sundays.

Unfortunately for Kat, who disagrees with my risk assessment, might makes right. At least in my world, which is where she is now. I tried to reason with her, to get her to see things my way. When that didn't work out, I had to do what was necessary to protect her, as I warned her I would. Kat and I may have different definitions of keeping one's word, but she must've realized that I don't make idle threats. Today's events, while unfortunate, shouldn't have come as a surprise for her.

It all makes perfect logical sense. Still, I'm not na?ve enough to mistake these dreadful physical sensations overtaking me for anything other than what they are—guilt and remorse.

At some point along the way, Kat's pain became my pain. Her suffering became my undoing. The sight of her dark blues eyes—which often stared back at me with warmth and passion—wide with horror and despair left a scar in my soul. For the rest of my life, no matter how long that may be, I'll never forgive myself for hurting her in the way that I did. My only hope is that, unlike myself, she might forgive me once this ordeal is over.

I'm startled by several loud, thundering voices outside my office. They yell frantically over each other in Russian before abruptly ceasing. Distracted from my anguished thoughts, I frown and listen carefully. That's when I hear a couple of hushed whispers just outside my door.

With a resigned sigh, I brace myself, wondering what new devastating problem will be dropped on my plate now. If only a pakhan could afford the luxury of personal days…

I hear a hesitant knock, and, in Russian, I order the newcomer to enter. The door opens, and to my surprise, both Dmitri and Vladimir stand outside. Their faces are the perfect picture of impassive deference, which tells me something truly awful happened.

While taking a fortifying breath, I drop my weight on my chair, momentarily closing my eyes. "What is it now?" I ask.

The two men exchange an anxious glance.

"Nik—" Dmitri says before pausing, seemingly searching for the right words. "I need you to stay calm."

Cold, slimy dread settles in the pit of my stomach. "Out with it, Dmitri," I say impatiently. "I'm not in the mood for your games tonight."

"Nik…" Dmitri says slowly, buying time. "It seems Kat's gone."

I stare at him in disbelief. "She's what?!" I hear myself roar, feeling like I'm having an out-of-body experience. Intellectually, I understand the words must be coming out of my mouth, but it sure feels like I'm watching myself shout them from outside my body.

"Well, she's gone, Nik. She has escaped. After finishing my rounds, I came back here to check on her and you because I heard about your fight. When I unlocked your bedroom door, she wasn't there. Nobody saw her leave. She's just gone. Pretty much without a trace."

The only solid attachment I feel to my body is my heart, beating in my chest in an alarmingly vicious way I haven't felt before. I can't tell if it's caused by adrenaline, cardiac arrest or a panic attack. Most likely a combination of all three.

"How can she have escaped? What kind of backyard operation am I running here that this woman can leave without any of my men noticing two fucking days in a row? Should I expect McGuire to greet me in my own fucking kitchen tomorrow? I'll have your heads on a spike after I find her. Clearly, if I need something done around here, I have to do it myself."

I know my words are harsh and I'm glad they are. I hope they sting. As a matter of fact, I hope the other dozen idiots scurrying outside my door hear me, too. Once I'm done finding Kat, I'll take great pleasure in painstakingly dealing with every single one of the useless lot.

Through gritted teeth, I say, "Stop staring at me and get your worthless asses out there. I want the two of you to spread the word that every single man in my bratva will scour this city until we find her. No one will rest, stop, sleep, or eat until she's found. I don't want to see either of you until she is returned to me. And if any harm has been done to even one hair on her head, I will personally ensure that the same is done tenfold to every single man on watch today, including the two of you. No one has ever known pain like what I will unleash upon you if anything happens to her. Now get the fuck out of here."

The first thing I do is try to track Kat's phone. But it's a waste of time. The tracker tells me it's still at the penthouse, so she didn't bring it with her when she left.

After grabbing my car keys, I race down the stairs to the garage, too impatient to bother with the elevator.

I consider calling her friend A.J. for a moment but ultimately decide not to bother. It's extremely unlikely she'd share anything with me, and I don't have time to waste forcing her to tell me all she knows.

So I roam the city, checking any place Kat could be. As I drive almost aimlessly, adrenaline is the only thing fueling me and keeping my fear and despair at bay. I don't know what I'll do if McGuire finds her before me.

As we learned from Connor, Patrick McGuire has eyes on the penthouse, dutifully observing everyone who comes and goes. My only hope is that he'll contact me to ask for some sort of ransom—preferably not a demand for the return of his daughter in exchange for Kat. That would prove to be a problem, considering I didn't abduct the girl. McGuire can have anything he wants as long as Kat remains unharmed.

My chances of finding Kat are very slim. I have no idea how long she's been gone, and there's no shortage of places where she could be hiding.

Why does she have to be stubbornly careless? Why can't she understand I'm just trying to protect her as well as I can?

I knew I couldn't trust her. From the start, I worried Kat would turn out to be unreliable and untrustworthy, someone who relents to every whim that strikes her fancy regardless of the consequences. She's done nothing in the past forty-eight hours to prove me wrong.

After everything she and I have been through, how could Kat do this? Does she relish causing me pain? She must know by now how precious she is to me. The woman has me wrapped around her finger, and she isn't afraid to wield her power, toying with me as she pleases. Why wouldn't she, when she knows I'm utterly incapable of ever truly hurting her?

Hours pass, and I finally admit I'm wasting my time and energy. I need to focus and use my fucking brain. Kat is nothing if not clever, and I won't find her by pointlessly roaming the city. I can only catch her if I'm smart about this. Besides, if McGuire has her and sends out a ransom demand, I must be available to receive it and promptly respond. So I drive home, struggling to concentrate on what needs to be done instead of letting my despair and sense of defeat distract me.

I ride by myself in the elevator to the penthouse. Once the doors slide open, I'm met by darkness and deafening silence. No one's back. Kat hasn't been found. My phone didn't ring. There are no promising leads. No good news.

Defeated, I head to my office, a bit disturbed by how empty this place is. There are no signs of life. It's so eerie that I shut my office door, hoping it will push this unsettling feeling out of my mind. I can't deal with this nonsense right now.

As I sit on my chair, I think of Lucien. I don't have the time or the energy to explain to him everything that has recently happened, but knowing him, I might not even have to. Lucien has a way of knowing all about everyone and everything without ever being told anything. It makes him the perfect choice for where to start my search. If anyone can help me, it's him. I grab my phone and search for his number, praying he'll pick up immediately. But before I can call him, my office door is kicked open.

Startled, I look up.

And just like that, I can't breathe. My heart must be still beating, or I would've dropped dead, but I could swear it came to a screeching halt.

Kat stands in the open doorway, haloed by the bleak darkness outside the room.

I stand up at once, gracelessly bumping into my desk as my chair rolls away. My legs turn to rubber, and I have to support my weight with my hands on the desk's warm mahogany surface. I exhale with relief. "Kat…" That one word a prayer, a benediction and a thanks—all rolled into one.

"You," she says through gritted teeth. Her blue eyes burn hotter and brighter than I've ever seen before.

I want to run to her, wrap my arms around her body, and never, ever let her go. I want to drop to my knees and beg her for forgiveness while promising I'll spend the rest of my days making up for my stupid mistake—as long as she stays forever.

But the adrenaline that's been keeping me upright since I heard the devastating news of her disappearance has abandoned me. I don't trust my legs to carry me over to her. As relief floods my veins, I don't even trust myself not to pass out at any moment now. I can feel myself growing lightheaded like a fucking idiot as Kat glowers at me from across the room.

"You," she repeats.

She looks so different. I can't quite put my finger on what exactly has changed in her appearance, but I've never seen her more beautiful. Somehow, Kat's both fire and ice as she glares at me. Her flushed skin glows, which I take as an indicator of a recent physical exertion episode. Her long dark hair—usually so smooth and meticulously in order—now frames her face in a breathtaking explosion of waves.

Kat has never looked more alive. It's an awe-inspiring sight, even though I've never seen her look less put-together. Or more stunning. I feel positively thunderstruck by her presence. She looks so heartbreakingly amazing as she scowls at me, radiating pure life, power, and chaotic energy.

Amidst my wonder, my heart aches because it dawns on me the severity of what I've done. Even if I live to a hundred, I'll never stop regretting my mistake. Kat offered me all of herself, all her beauty and wildness, and I tried to tame her. I tried to lock her in a gilded cage and clip her wings.

Kat's blue eyes are as dark as the duskiest depths of the ocean, and they never leave my face as she approaches me intently.

All words escape me as I watch her in awe. I can't move, I can't breathe. All I can do is admire her and drink in the sight of her all in one piece, back home with me. In some obscure part of my mind, alarm bells sound as my brain faintly registers that she's livid. But I pay them no mind.

Kat halts mere inches away from me. After squaring her shoulders, she searches for something deep within her pockets. Her slender fingers wrap around it, and with one graceful flick of her wrist, she launches it at me.

A small, solid object bounces off my chest. Reflexively, I catch it with my left hand. Dumbstruck, I glance down, and, as it frequently happens whenever Kat's around, my world comes to a stop again. Somehow, in the palm of my hand lies the Flame of Mir.

A thousand thoughts cross my mind. I don't understand how this came to be. I have so many questions and so many things I need to say. But, once more in a daze, I can only stare at Kat, unable to even begin figuring out what to tell her.

"There," she says coldly. "We're even now."

Kat turns on her heels, heading towards the door again. There, she pauses before glancing at me over her shoulder.

Impassively, she says, "A few months ago, A.J. saw an opportunity to make good money by running game on Giuseppe Salvatore. I trust I don't have to tell you, of all people, who he is. Predictably, it didn't end well for her. He caught her red-handed. He had her right where he wanted her, which meant he had me at his beck and call. Long story short, he blackmailed me into doing all sorts of things, including infiltrating a certain museum gala and stealing the world's largest red diamond. He was very particular about the specifics of the whole thing. The details of this heist were nonnegotiable. It had to be done on that specific night, under his specific terms. I did what he wanted and gave him what he wanted, hoping it'd be the end of my involvement with the mafia. But little did I know what ironic little twist fate had in store for me."

With a humorless laugh, Kat smirks at me sardonically.

I stare at her, speechless and shocked, as fury like I've never felt before floods me. It burns as scorchingly hot as lava, irradiating through my body, inch by inch.

"Giuseppe Salvatore will die a horrible, painful death," I say through gritted teeth. "Even if it's the last thing I do. McGuire can wait. I will find Salvatore tonight, and I will kill him myself."

Kat scoffs, shaking her head as sadness clouds her eyes. "You're missing my point entirely."

"No, I'm not. Trust me. I'm disgusted with myself. I don't deserve to even breathe the same air as you. I don't deserve to be in the same room as you. I'm not much better than that wretched fuck. Not after what I've put you through when you're innocent of any crime. But if you give me a chance, I'll spend the rest of my life atoning for my sins. I can never truly earn your forgiveness, but, Kat, on my life, I promise you I'll die trying."

Kat stares at me in silence for a long, endless moment. To my surprise, her anger dissolves from her face in an instant. She blinks rapidly as her eyes fill with tears and a sob escapes her lips. "No."

"No?" I ask, dumbly.

Kat shakes her head. "I warned you, Nik. I told you there was no coming back from what you did. But you went through with it, anyway. We are done. This is it for us."

With a sharp intake of breath, I shake my head frantically. "No, Kat. Don't say that. You can't mean that. I can't lose you. Hold on, just give me a chance to?—"

"You aren't listening to me. I don't want to be with you. I have no interest in being with someone who needs to control me as much as you do. I don't want to be with someone who will quite literally lock me away whenever I disagree with him. Above all, I refuse to be someone who can't trust anything but his trust issues." Kat sniffs, trying to swallow her tears. "I don't need you to deal with Giuseppe Salvatore for me. I don't want you to go to war against the Irish and the Italians because of me. This is precisely why I couldn't be honest with you. I don't want you to spend the rest of your life atoning for your sins—whatever the hell that means for you. All I need and want from you is that you leave me alone for good. Don't come near me or contact me ever again. Stay out of my life."

Kat's words make me feel like I had the wind knocked out of me and took a blow to the head all at once. My head rings, I'm disoriented—I can't breathe. "Dusha moya, please don't do this. I'll give you anything. Anything, Kat. Just give me a chance to make things right. Please. I won't let you down, I promise. I'll devote every second of the rest of my life to making you happy. I'll give you anything your heart has ever desired."

While shaking her head, Kat studies my face. Something in her eyes tells me she's trying to take one last good look at me, expecting never to see me again.

She glances away. "The only thing I want is to be by myself. If you ever cared about me, you'll honor this one request of mine," she says, marching through the doorway.

A few steps away, Kat stops, turning to face me. Maybe for the last time. "I hope you find peace, Nik, instead of whatever it is you've been looking for this whole time."

She walks away, never looking back.