Page 57 of Bratva Hostage

I shake my head. “If she planned this, she might have money stashed away, a plan to slip past us. Unless Thorne’s men grabbed her the moment she stepped out.”

“We’ll widen the search. I’ve already told the men to patrol outside the walls.”

“Good. I’ll coordinate from here, but first, I need to make a call.”

Grigor. Seraphina. I stride to my office, dreading what I might hear. The phone rings twice before he picks up.

“What’s going on, Dimitri?” Grigor’s voice is guarded. He always expects trouble.

“Cecily’s missing,” I say in a harsh whisper. “Can you confirm Seraphina’s safe?”

He barks a command to someone on his end, then comes back. “She’s fine. Why is Cecily missing?”

I take a ragged breath. “She slipped out—or she was taken; we’re not sure. She’s not here, and there’s no sign of a fight. I suspect she left on her own.”

A brief silence. “Are you sure she didn’t just wander to a corner of the estate?”

“My men have checked everywhere. She’s gone. And we saw that suspicious car around lately, so I’m worried Thorne might be involved.”

He curses under his breath. “You want me to mobilize extra eyes? Start asking questions?”

“Yes. If Thorne has her, or if he was waiting with his men—”

Grigor’s voice turns cold. “You think she might’ve willingly run to Thorne?”

The idea makes me choke on anger. “No. But if she was running from me, that gave him a perfect window to snatch her.”

“I’ll do what I can. Keep me updated.”

I hang up, and my chest is burning. My father-in-law has always been a threat, but now the stakes are higher. If Cecily’s out there alone, she’s an easy target for her father’s men. The frustration tears at me, and guilt weaves in. This is my fault. I pushed too hard and didn’t give her enough space. Now she might be paying for it.

Maksim appears at the door. “We found tracks near the staff entrance. Footprints, possibly hers. And a partial shoe print that looks bigger, maybe a man’s. Not conclusive, but suggests she wasn’t alone at the end.”

My stomach knots. “So either she met someone, or someone intercepted her. We need answers.”

“I have men canvassing the neighborhood. We’ll check cameras from nearby shops, traffic lights, and anything else that might have captured movement.”

“Good.” The tension in my voice is impossible to hide. “Notify me the moment we get a lead.”

He nods and steps out.

I sink into my desk chair, dropping my head in my hands. Cecily’s independent streak was obvious from day one, but I never imagined she’d actually run. I can’t believe she’d willingly hand herself over to Thorne, but maybe she was trying to escape both of us—her father’s war and my suffocating protection. The notion stings more than I want to admit.

I review a map of the estate’s perimeter, tracing potential exit routes. The staff entrance is the easiest. If she had a key, she could slip away. Irina might have left them unattended. That’s all the opportunity Cecily would need. She’s clever enough to time everything, wait until the guards are occupied, then vanish.

And if that black sedan was waiting, Thorne’s men would’ve taken her in seconds. Just the thought of it sets my blood on fire. She might be in their clutches right now, powerless to fight back. My heart pounds at the image of her pinned in a car, terror in her eyes.

I force myself to breathe, to think logically. If Thorne wanted to rub it in my face, he’d contact me with demands. Unless he’s planning something bigger. That possibility ignites a fresh wave of worry.

The emptiness in the mansion grates on me. Each quiet corner is a reminder she’s not here. I storm to the security room once more to review every camera. My men scramble to gather intel from the city, but we’re coming up empty. It’s like she vanished into thin air.

I want to drive out and scour the streets personally, but I also need to coordinate from here in case we get a lead. The conflict roils in my gut. Standing still feels like a betrayal, but I can’t abandon the nerve center of our operation.

Time crawls. Minutes, hours. My phone rings nonstop—false leads, men reporting dead ends, worried allies asking how we let her slip away. My anger festers, aimed at myself as much as Thorne. I was so busy tightening her security that I forgot she might resist it. Now she’s gone, and the only question is whether I can fix this before it’s too late.

Chapter 22 - Cecily

Pain lances through my wrists where the rope bites into my skin. They tied me up for the car ride, and even though they untied me once we got here—whereverhereis—the dull ache remains. I keep my hands in my lap to hide the raw marks, breathing slow and steady to keep the panic at bay. Panic won’t help me here.

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