Bound to my Enemy Chapter 100

I get ho later than I plan to.

Traffic drags and the calls ran long. Nothing unusual. By the ti I pull into the driveway, the house is already lit the way it always is in the evening. Warm lights in the front hall. Margaret’s doing, most likely, it settles sothing in as I step out of the car.

I walk inside and shrug off my jacket, hanging it where it belongs.

"Elaine," I call out, not loud. Just enough to announce myself.

No answer, which is kind of normal for her.

I don’t think anything of it at first. She’s been distant since yesterday and Keeping to herself. Either in her room or sowhere with Margaret or with her girls. I head toward the kitchen, expecting to see her at the counter or sitting at the small table, maybe pretending not to notice .

But the kitchen is empty.

Margaret isn’t here either, which is unusual at this hour. Dinner hasn’t been started, no pots on the stove, no sll of food. I pause, glance at the clock on the wall. It’s well past seven .

"She’s probably upstairs," I mutter.

I pour myself a glass of water and drink it slowly, letting the day slide off . I scroll through my phone, check ssages and emails. Nothing from her. That isn’t strange either, doesn’t text much, unless she has a reason to absolutely do that.

I move toward the stairs, taking them at a normal pace.

Our bedroom door is ope.

The first thing I notice is the quiet. The room usually has so sign of life.

Our bed is made, the pillows are stacked. The blanket smoothed.

I step inside.

"Elaine?" I say again, a little louder.

Still nothing.

I walk farther in, glance toward the bathroom, the door is open, with the lights off.

My chest tightens, just a fraction

I open the closet. Her clothes are still there, but not all of them. I know what she owns. I’ve seen her wear the sa things enough tis to recognize patterns. There’s space where a few dresses should be. A pair of boots missing from the bottom shelf.

I tell myself not to jump to conclusions.

"She went out," I think. "That’s all."

But she never goes out without telling soone. Margaret, at least. Aaron, usually.

I leave her room and check the guest room. But it’s empty. The sitting room down the hall where she sotis curls up with a blanket. Empty too.

I stop at the railing and look down into the living room. No sign of her still, the house suddenly feels bigger than it should.

I head downstairs and scan the space more carefully this ti. Her bag isn’t by the couch. Her shoes aren’t by the door.

I walk to the entryway and open the coat closet. Nothing.

I take my phone out and dial Aaron.

He answers quickly. "Boss."

"Where’s Elaine," I ask.

There’s a small pause.

"She’s not with boss,"he says.

I frown. "She didn’t leave with you."

"No."

"Did she say she was going anywhere."

"No, sir."

I end the call without another word.

I stand there for a mont, phone in my hand, staring at the floor. My thoughts start to move faster now, lining up possibilities. She could be with her brothers or she could be with those girls she’s been hanging around. She could just be out.

But she took clothes.

I go back upstairs, this ti moving faster. I open drawers I didn’t check before. The small one by the vanity, it’s half empty, her travel toiletries are gone. The small pouch she keeps hidden at the back of the drawer that she thinks I don’t know about is missing.

My jaw tightens.

"No," I say quietly.

I head to my room. The bathroom cabinet is open. Her things are still there, but disturbed. Toothbrush gone. Hair ties missing.

I step back, take a breath through my nose. I don’t panic yet. I don’t allow that. I think.

"She’s scared of ," I realize.

I walk downstairs again and call Aaron back

"Get here," I say. "Now."

He doesn’t argue, he probably already knows he’s in trouble.

I pace while I wait. I replay last night in my head, her face and the way she looked at . The way she went quiet when she saw the blood on .

I should have explained more. I should have told her what really happened, I should hav.....

The door opens.

Aaron steps in, cautious, eyes already alert.

"She’s gone," I say.

"Yes, sir. I figured."

"You were responsible for her."

"I know."

I turn on him so fast he barely has ti to react. My fist connects with his cheek, snapping his head to the side. He stumbles back and hits the wall.

"You don’t lose her!!!" I shout. "Not her."

"I didn’t know she was leaving," he says, breath rough. "She didn’t tell ."

I grab him by the front of his shirt and slam him into the wall again. Harder this ti so much that he groans in pain.

"That’s not a fucking excuse."

I hit him again. Once and then again, he drops to one knee, blood drips from his nose.

"Zane."

Thomas’s voice cuts in. He’s behind , his hand gripping my arm.

"That’s enough."

I wrench free, breathing hard, staring down at Aaron.

"Get up," I snap.

Aaron pushes himself upright, blood on his lip, eyes steady despite it.

Thomas steps closer. "You need to find her, not kill your own man."

I nod once. "Go," I tell Aaron. "Look for her."

He leaves imdiately.

I call her phone but it goes straight to voicemail.

I try again but it’s still voicemail.

My chest feels tight now. Really tight.

"She won’t answer," I say.

Thomas looks at for a long mont. "You put a tracker in her phone rember?."

I freeze.

Then I turn and look at him.