I sat on the couch in my bedroom. I’d been sitting there for so long that the darkness had crept in the windows and brought my room into shadow. I hadn’t gotten up to flick on the lights. I hadn’t even gotten a drink.
Scotch wouldn’t help.
My phone was gripped in my hand, waiting for information from my men. They were following every lead possible, torturing any man who might possibly know where Maddox could be. Every phone call I’d received led nowhere.
We had no idea where he was.
No idea where my wife was.
It’d been three days since she disappeared, three days that she’d been subjected to cruelty. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. I was so sick to my stomach I threw up a couple times. All I could think about was what he was doing to her.
That I didn’t save her.
I wished we’d never met. I wished she married someone else. If she had, none of this would have happened.
I was supposed to keep her safe, but all this was happening because of me.
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temple, feeling physical pain everywhere. My muscles were sore from running around, my head pounded because I hadn’t eaten, and my neck was tight from my face being constantly tilted toward the ground.
But my pain couldn’t possibly compare to hers.
My bedroom door opened, and I didn’t bother to look at who it was. It was probably Damien, there to deliver bad news.
A deep voice I recognized erupted across the room. “Helena told me to walk inside.”
It took me a moment to raise my chin and look at him. I could recognize that voice anywhere, because I’d been listening to it since I was a child. When my eyes landed on his face, they narrowed. I knew who it was, but it took me a moment to believe what I was seeing.
Ash stepped farther into my bedroom, an apologetic look in his eyes.
“Why are you here?” Reestablishing a relationship with him was at the bottom of my priorities. Alive or dead, I couldn’t care less. The one person in the world who actually mattered to me was missing. I couldn’t sleep in my bed, not when I had no idea where she was sleeping, when I had no idea how she was being treated.
Ash took a seat beside me, leaving several inches of space between us. With his elbows on his knees, he stared straight ahead. “Damien called me.”
I didn’t see why. “You didn’t need to come all the way down here.”
“Thought I could help.”
“Why would you want to help me?” I shouldn’t be so spiteful, but I was too depressed to care about my behavior.
“You know why.”
“I really don’t. You made it clear that you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. And I certainly don’t hate your wife. We’re a family…and I’m here for you.”
It was ironic that my brother was sitting beside me, that he’d dropped his venom and put aside our differences. I couldn’t get him to give me a chance whatsoever, and now he was there, being a brother, being a friend. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“Any idea where he could be?”
I sighed in annoyance. “If I did, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be sitting on my ass in the dark.”
Ash wasn’t a smartass in response. “Any leads? Any moles?”
“I’ve checked them all…nothing.”
“We’ll keep looking,” Ash said. “I’m with you on this…til the end.”
I dragged my hands down my face, furious that I had no idea how to fix this. My wife was the victim of god-knows-what, and I was sitting on my ass doing nothing. I pulled my hands away and let a few tears escape. I loved this woman so much that I would smile if I could take her place. Loving her was like living with my heart outside my body. It was vulnerable, delicate, and she carried it in her hand. Whatever happened to her happened to me.
Ash glanced at me from the corner of his eye before he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, giving me affection I hadn’t expected. We hadn’t embraced each other as brothers in over five years. As if my father hadn’t been killed by my hand, he was loyal to me. He was there for me. “I’m sorry, man. You don’t deserve this.”
“I’m surprised you would say that.”
“You shouldn’t be.” He gently rubbed my back before he dropped his hand. “It’s time we leave the past in the past. Mom and Dad are gone, but we have each other. Let’s move on—starting now.”
I turned my gaze to meet his look, my eyes wide because I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. “Does that mean…that you forgive me?” I spoke the question out loud, unable to believe we were having this conversation at all.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.”
Instead of feeling joy, I felt devastation. I’d accomplished what I set out to do, but it didn’t make any difference at all. My wife wasn’t here. She couldn’t love me when she was being tortured and god-knew-what.
Or if she was dead.
His statement only made me feel worse, made me feel like I’d lost even more.