Page 127 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

"Call Castellano House," he ordered his phone.

The housekeeper answered on the second ring. "Good morning, Mr. Castellano."

"Is Ms. Vale there?"

"I haven't seen her this morning, sir. Her car is in the garage, though."

Darius's grip tightened on the phone. "Check the guest room she's been using. The one with all the..." he grimaced, "pillows."

"Right away, sir."

The line went silent as the housekeeper went to check. Darius continued pacing, his mind calculating risks and resources. If someone had taken her, they'd pay with more than money. The Castellano empire didn't suffer threats lightly, especially not to what belonged to its heir.

And Serenity Vale, whether she'd admitted it yet or not, belonged to him.

"Sir?" The housekeeper's voice returned. "She's not in her room, but it looks like someone slept in your bed. The sheets are rumpled."

Something cold and possessive uncurled in Darius's chest. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Don't disturb anything."

He ended the call, a new urgency driving him. Serenity in his bed rather than her "nest" was unusual. She'd been adamant about maintaining some semblance of independence despite their arrangement.

"Clear my schedule," he barked at his assistant as he strode toward the elevator. "And keep trying to reach Ms. Vale."

The not knowing clawed at him—a sensation he wasn't accustomed to. Darius Castellano always knew. Always controlled. Always dominated.

But Serenity Vale had managed to disrupt that certainty from the moment she'd walked into his life with those golden-red eyes and sharp tongue.

And now she was missing.

Darius jabbed at his phone with barely contained rage, scrolling to Ronan's contact. The call connected, rang five times, then dumped to voicemail.

"Fuck," he growled, ending the call without leaving a message.

If Ronan Drake wasn't answering, it meant one of two things—someone was bleeding out under his fists, or he was neck-deepin whatever shadowy business kept his mercenary network flush with cash. Either way, the Alpha was unreachable, which did nothing to improve Darius's deteriorating mood.

He slammed his palm against his desk, making his laptop jump. The tracking program on the screen continued to flash with interference signals, unable to pinpoint Serenity's location.

"Sir," his assistant called from the doorway, her beta scent carefully neutral. "Your driver is waiting, but should I have security?—"

"Put Mason's team on standby," Darius cut her off, already reaching for his tailored wool coat. "Full tactical response. I want them ready to move on my command."

The assistant paled. "The entire unit, sir?"

"Every. Single. One." Each word fell like a stone. "If I have to lock down the entire eastern seaboard to find her, consider it done."

He strode past the woman, not waiting for acknowledgment. His Italian leather shoes struck the marble floor with military precision as he marched toward the private elevator. The few employees unfortunate enough to be in his path flattened themselves against walls, the Prime Alpha's fury radiating from him in waves that made their hindbrains scream danger.

"Have you reached Ms. Vale yet?" he demanded as the elevator doors closed.

"No, sir. Her phone appears to be powered off."

Darius's jaw tightened until he felt something crack. Serenity never turned her phone off. Never. The woman treated the device like an extension of her arm, constantly monitoring market fluctuations and Vale Enterprise holdings.

The basement garage was dimly lit when he emerged, his driver already holding the door to the black Bentley open.

"Home," Darius ordered, dropping into the backseat. "And don't bother with traffic laws."

"Yes, sir."

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