"Boss, I need a word with you." Marco pokes his head into Ivy's room, and I grunt a response.
"Give me a hand with these, will you?" I shift the window cover, setting one piece aside.
Marco doesn't move. "I think you should come down here so we can talk."
I glance at him over my shoulder and frown at the strained expression on his face. My fucking nerves are already shot, and this isn't helping. The moment I left Judge's house, I sent ten of my best guards to the hospital to collect my wife early while I came home to prepare for her arrival. That was an hour ago. They should have given me a status update by now.
My gut sours, and I know Marco came to deliver bad news. What else could it be?
I turn back to the window, tugging at the piece that won't seem to budge. Much like me, it's stubborn. Unyielding.
"Fucking piece of shit." I growl, slamming against it in frustration. "I need your help, Marco."
"Boss, I really think you should come down here." He's quieter now. Uncertain how to handle me like this. I can't say I blame him.
I don't want to hear whatever it is he came to say. Maybe that's why I'm still prying at the window cover as if I can alter it. Avoid it.
"I have to get this out," I snarl. "Her room has to be ready when she gets home."
Silence. He doesn't bother to respond this time, and a cold chill moves over me when I release the cover and finally turn to him. I look down at him from the sill, a lead weight settling over my chest.
Marco shifts from one foot to the other. He clears his throat then stuffs his hands into his pockets. And finally, he delivers the news he doesn’t want to tell me.
"Sir, your wife slipped the guard and escaped the hospital. I've had my men out scouring the city for her from the moment I became aware, but she hasn't turned up anywhere. I waited to tell you because I had hoped we might find her."
My hands fall open at my sides. My breathing slows. And I stare at him, blank.
Several minutes pass. Maybe more. Marco stares back, his face growing more uncomfortable the longer I stand there, silent.
I turn back to the window cover and yank again, grunting out in frustration when it refuses to budge. Marco doesn't say anything else as I continue to grapple with the piece. Or if he does, I don't hear it.
"I need to get this out," I bark at him. "She'll be home soon. Her room should be ready. It should have been ready..."
My voice falters, and a hand settles onto my arm, gently guiding me away from the window. Marco helps me down from the sill, meeting my gaze with sorrowful eyes.
"She's gone, sir. I'm so sorry."
A tremor moves through me. I can't accept it. She wouldn't leave me. Ivy hates me, but she wouldn't leave me.
"You're wrong." I brush past him, determined to prove it myself.
Marco follows me all the way down the stairs and to the car still parked in the driveway. When I try and fail to open the door, he unlocks it with the keys in his hand and gently guides me around to the passenger seat.
"I'll drive you, sir."
The ride is quiet. I can't accept that this is anything other than a mistake. Ivy wouldn't do this. She wouldn't take away my light.
Marco pulls up to the curb of The Society hospital and follows me inside. We take the elevator up to the fifth floor, passing the army of guards that has now multiplied under Marco's command. They are scouring the halls, some checking each room and peeking into laundry carts while others interview hospital staff.
I can't focus on any of it. I can only focus on each step. Each breath.
When I enter her room, I come to a halt just past the doorway. Her bed is empty, and a glance inside the bathroom confirms that is too. And for a minute, I don't know what else to do.
Marco lingers beside me, waiting patiently for my sanity to return. But it never does.
I move robotically, a phantom in search of the beating heart that's been ripped from his chest. There's nothing left inside that gaping space. Nothing but agony.
"I was going to make things right," I murmur as my hand settles onto the pillow where she lay this morning. "She would have seen it. The windows. Her new clothes. The lock removed from her bedroom door. I removed the rosary and the mask… I was going to make things right."
Marco has grace enough not to interrupt my fragmented thoughts as I bring the pillow to my face and inhale her scent. I breathe it in, and then it slips from my hands, falling to the floor as my gaze drifts out the window. At the vast city beyond. She is out there somewhere. My wife and our child.
I turn to Marco, a familiar anger steeling me against these unrecognizable weaknesses stirring up inside me.
"Where is Abel?"
"We haven't been able to locate him, sir," he answers apologetically. "But the nurse mentioned that Ivy's youngest sister came by to visit. We haven't spoken with her yet."
"Take me to her."
He nods, and thirty minutes later, I'm standing on the doorstep of the pathetic structure the Moreno's call home. I've been to this house many times. Sat in the office with Eli and said hello to his family in passing. I remember it vividly. Back then, it looked very much like a family home. Now, it looks like it should be burned to the ground.
The door opens, and Mrs. Moreno squeaks when she sees the grim reaper standing on the threshold to greet her. She never could look directly at me. Not even when my face wasn’t a skull.
"Where is Evangeline?" I demand.
"Eva?" she repeats, her voice too high.
"Bring her to me. Now."
She steps back, nodding fast as her hands begin to tremble. "Of course, Mr. De La Rosa. I'll bring her to you."
She leads us into the sitting room, offering us a drink, to which I don't reply. After a moment, she scurries away in search of her daughter.
"Search the house," I tell Marco.
He nods and disappears while I stand in the middle of the sitting room, scanning the space for any signs of my wife. After a few more moments, the smallest Moreno girl enters the room, eyes cast down, cheeks red.
"Mr. De La Rosa," she grits out. "My mother said you'd like to speak to me."
The mother she speaks of sent her into the room alone, courageous as she is. She's too afraid to face me herself but does not hesitate to send her young child to speak with me. That tells me everything I need to know about the coward of a woman.
"Evangeline." I glance down at her, the little girl much like a younger version of Ivy. This miniature human reminds me of that girl, the one who stumbled into her father's office in tears so many years ago. The one who gifted me a pen and didn't hesitate to look me directly in the eye, unlike most of the people in my life.
Evangeline tips her chin up, squaring her shoulders. "What do you want?"
My lip tilts at the corner, despite the gravity of the situation. She is very much like Ivy, indeed.
"Where is your brother?"
"I don't know." She shrugs. "He hasn't been home since I got here."
"Tell me about the hospital. You went to visit your sister. What happened when you were there?"
She swallows and shakes her head. "Nothing. It was just a visit."
She's lying, and I know she's lying. It only makes sense that Abel sent her. Nobody would think twice about the young, innocent girl coming to see her sister. The hospital staff already knew Abel was not allowed visitation rights. This was his way in. And I am a fool for not considering that he would use anyone, even a child, even at the risk of her own severe punishment. He fed her to the wolves, completely disregarding the consequences for her. It does not inspire confidence that he will have any mercy for my wife.
I study Evangeline for a long moment, considering how to handle this. I don't often deal with children. I know almost nothing about them, except for what I learned from looking after Mercedes. But that was different.
I lower myself to one knee, meeting Evangeline's gaze directly. She sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes moving rapidly over the ink on my face. She does not seem scared but fascinated, and it surprises me.
"I need you to tell me where your sister is. It's for her own safety."
"She isn't safe with you." She glares at me. "I saw her. She was a wreck."
Shame washes over me as I dip my head in acknowledgment. "I know. And I regret that."
Evangeline watches me curiously, her brows pinching together.
"But she isn't safe with Abel either. I know he's your brother, but he has plans for Ivy that you aren’t aware of. He will harm her if you don't tell me where she is."
"He wouldn't." Her lip wavers as she denies it, but I can see the questions in her eyes.
"He would. And I think you already know he's capable of it."
She's quiet for a pause, and when she blinks again, tears splash against her cheeks. "I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. I don't know where she is."
Marco returns, capturing my attention from the landing. Mrs. Moreno is beside him, watching him with annoyance after he rifled through her belongings.
"I didn’t find anything, boss."
I stand and direct my sharp gaze at Mrs. Moreno. "Anything else you'd like to tell me?"
"I don't know where Abel is," she huffs. "Or Ivy for that matter. Whatever plan they concocted is between them. I am terribly ashamed of them right now, truth be told. If this gets out to The Society, it will ruin us. They think of nobody but themselves."
"Very well." I turn to Marco, gesturing to the little girl. "Take her for collateral. We'll bring her back if my wife is returned alive."
Evangeline looks at her mother, eyes pleading. Mrs. Moreno does not utter so much as a protest.
Dusk slips to darkness as we drive around the city, searching every place Abel has ever been known to frequent. Using the power of IVI’s connections, we have also traced his phone, only to learn that it’s been turned off. With no other leads, we resort to dispersing my men to every hotel, alleyway, and street corner with Ivy's photo, asking for witnesses and offering a reward.
Still, the results yield nothing.
As the light of morning settles over us, my frustrations grow. She isn't safe, and I can't get to her. I can't protect her.
My wife.
My sweet, infuriating, intoxicating wife.
Doesn't she understand what she's doing to me? I can't be without her. Not now. Not after everything. It's something that's only become painfully clear in her absence. Even when she was just down the hall, stowed away in her room, out of my sight, I knew she was always there. And now that she isn't, the blood in my veins has slowed to a crawl. The thumping beat of my heart is dimming, fading.
I need her.
"Antonia says the girl is awake," Marco glances at his phone briefly to read the information from his texts. "She's still not talking."
I stare out the passenger window, watching the buildings as we pass. The gloomy fog around us is as heavy as my mood. Where the fuck could she be?
I've tried not to think about the haunting words Mercedes left me with. Abel's intentions for the baby inside Ivy. But the images come back, again and again, violent and excruciating. Is it too late? Has he destroyed the only good thing we have left?
Coldness seeps into my chest, icing over the warring emotions I don't know how to deal with. There is one option left. The one option I didn't want to consider. It would make me a truly weak man to walk into Eli Moreno's room and beg him for his help.
But what choice do I have?
I close my eyes briefly, prioritizing my thoughts. Revenge has always been of the foremost importance in my life. Six months ago, I wanted every Moreno to suffer. I wanted Eli and Abel and even Ivy dead. But Judge was right. Somewhere along the line, things have changed.
I'll never let her go, even if she condemns me to her hatred for an eternity. I understand that now. Because the loss of her for even these few hours has strained me beyond comprehension. I can't think. I can't eat. I can't even breathe without the pain reminding me of one simple truth.
She should be here beside me.
"Take me back to the hospital."
Marco glances at me. "The hospital?"
"Yes," I grit out. "I'm going to see Eli."