Her logic is warped, of course. People rarely see their baby blankets again. The likelihood of anyone keeping it after kidnapping a child is slim to impossible.
But apparently a mother’s heart can nurture hope even in the worst situations without thinking about logic.
“I’m sorry for whatever my family has done to you. But please don’t take away my hope. The hope has been the only thing keeping me alive for the last thirty-one years.”
The little boy craving the acceptance and love of his mother awakens inside me, wishing to tell her the truth and find solace in her arms, so maybe she could bring relief to the aching pain in my chest that doesn’t go away.
But the man I’ve grown into knows it would be a terrible mistake. I’m not her sweet baby anymore.
Her prince grew up into a monster who sends fear in whoever crosses him.
“I wish you were never born.”
She wouldn’t wish for such a son, and I’ve handled all the rejection I could in my life.
I won’t subject myself to any more.
Before I can reply to her, the doors burst open again. My eyes widen at Amalia standing there, the blood dripping from her forehead, her jeans and shirt smeared in dirt. “Duke kidnapped Penelope.” She tugs on her hair as if in a trance. “I was supposed to meet her, and he just took her. I couldn’t stop the car in time. He has her, Remi!”
No.
Fear unlike anything I’ve felt before wraps around me, strangling me, while the beast inside me roars so loudly his fury burns me from the inside out.
My woman, my beautiful woman, is in the hands of the madman who hates me viciously and will stop at nothing to hurt me.
And he didn’t threaten me or send any clue about where to find him, which means only one thing.
He intends to kill her and deliver her body to me on a silver platter as a token of his revenge.
A man who didn’t mind killing his own grandson would not even blink before killing someone’s wife.
As madness slowly consumes me, pouring into my soul and smearing it in anger, determination urges me to find the motherfucker and torture him endlessly. My insides rip in two just thinking what he might do to my Penelope.
Feelings right now are a luxury I can’t afford. Rational thinking and victories don’t exist without a cold mind.
If I succumb to my fury, I won’t help my wife. Instead, it will allow the monster to feast on her flesh, making her pay for my sins.
I should have never made her part of my plan or showed her affection; the fucker knew exactly where to strike me.
“Do you hear me, Remi?” Amalia shouts, coming closer to me and hitting my chest. “Your grandfather took my sister!”
A loud gasp echoes in the room, and both our heads swing to my mother, who blinks rapidly, drilling her stare into me and shaking her head in disbelief. “Remi,” she whispers, wanting to touch me, but I step away from her.
Right now, I can’t focus on her or the questions swirling in her eyes.
Instead, I run through my photographic memories of all the information I’ve ever had on my grandfather—his patterns, likes and dislikes—to determine where he could have taken Penelope.
Since he thinks he is so smart, it means he would pick a place he predicts I would never consider. And killing her there would bring him extra joy, and he will be able to flaunt that fact afterward.
A place that would make him believe justice was served for all the shit I’ve done to him.
Where?
And just like that, the answer comes to me.
The Carrington family mansion. Where his greatest shame was born and he failed to end my life.
So he will try to rectify the situation today to give himself at least some sense of power.