Chapter 139
~ Clinton ~
When I finally got ho that evening, the apartnt felt colder than usual, the silence pressing in from every corner. I tossed my keys onto the counter and noticed the missed call from Octavia. My thumb hovered over her na, the urge to call her back strong. But then the mory of the gun pressed to my head, the bat cracking against my skull, and that gravelly voice warning to stay away flooded back. I couldn’t risk it. Not now. I was protecting her—even if it ant keeping my distance.
My ti with Annie earlier had been amazing, a rare pocket of lightness in days that had grown heavier and darker. Yet, the next day, as I sat at my desk, work—the one thing that had always been my escape—now felt like a cage.
The file lay open in front of , untouched.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
I hadn’t read a single line.
Because my mind wasn’t here.
It was sowhere else.
With her.
Not Octavia.
Annie.
The mory of yesterday replayed in soft, vivid fragnts—her bright smile across the table, the way her laughter had filled the restaurant, the softness in her voice when she looked at like I was sothing worth holding onto. Sothing safe. Sothing... hers.
I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my face.
"She likes you," I muttered under my breath.
It wasn’t hard to see. Anyone with eyes could tell.
But the problem wasn’t her feelings.
It was mine.
Because no matter how kind and beautiful Annie was...
No matter how easy it would be to just try...
I couldn’t.
Not when my heart was still tangled up in soone else.
Octavia.
Always Octavia.
Even now.
Even after everything.
I picked up my phone, scrolled, and paused on Octavia’s na. Then I pressed call.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
Nothing.
The call dropped.
I frowned and tried again.
Sa thing.
Unavailable.
A strange feeling settled in my gut—uneasy, heavy, wrong. I didn’t know why, but sothing didn’t sit right.
"Maybe she’s busy or asleep," I muttered, tossing the phone lightly onto the desk.
Still—the feeling didn’t go away.
I shook it off and forced myself to refocus on the file. Work. That’s what I needed. Distraction.
I reached for it again—
And then my phone rang.
I picked it up without checking the caller ID.
"Clinton."
The voice on the other end was tight, edged with sothing I rarely heard from him.
"Where is she?"
I froze.
It was Franklin.
His voice wasn’t normal.
"What?" I asked, frowning.
"Octavia," he said, sharper now. "Where is she?"
Confusion hit instantly. "What kind of question is that? She’s at the hospital... isn’t she?"
Silence.
Then...
"She’s not."
I stood up imdiately, chair scraping against the floor. "What do you an she’s not?"
"She’s not in her ward," Franklin said, his voice tight with barely contained panic. "She’s gone."
Gone?
No.
"Gone how? That’s not possible," I said quickly. "Did you check with the nurses? The staff?"
"I’ve alerted everyone," he snapped. "They’re searching the entire hospital."
For the first ti, I heard it—real fear in Franklin’s voice. And despite everything, despite how much I couldn’t stand him, I felt it too. Because this wasn’t about us anymore. This was about her.
"Franklin," I said, steadying my voice, "listen to . Did you inform hospital managent to make an announcent? Lock down exits?"
"I did," he said. "They’re searching everywhere."
Damn it.
This wasn’t random. It couldn’t be.
"I’m calling the police," Franklin said suddenly.
And that’s when it clicked.
I rembered the parking lot, the beating, the gun, the cold warning: "Stay away... or next ti won’t be a warning."
My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white.
"Don’t," I said.
"What?" Franklin snapped.
"Don’t call the police."
A pause.
"Have you lost your mind?" he demanded.
"I haven’t, but there’s no need for you to call the police," I said, the mory of that gravelly voice still fresh and terrifying. "Whoever abducted Octavia doesn’t need anyone to know. Trust ."
My guess was that whoever had taken Octavia was the sa person—or group—that had kidnapped and threatened , and likely the sa one who had pushed her down the stairs. The lines were connecting now, sharp and terrifying. The person wasn’t finished with her yet. And now she was gone. That thought scared more than anything.
I was silent for a mont, the weight of it pressing down on my chest.
"If we call the police," I continued, "we could make things worse."
"You expect to do nothing?" Franklin snapped, his voice cracking with frustration and fear.
"At this mont... yes."
Another rough breath on the line.
"What do you suggest?" he asked finally, the reluctance clear.
I exhaled slowly. 1
"We find her ourselves."
"I don’t trust you," he said imdiately.
"I don’t care," I replied. "This isn’t about trust."
It was about survival.
About her survival.
Another pause.
Then....
"...Fine," Franklin said reluctantly. "But if anything happens to her—"
"It won’t," I cut in.
Because it couldn’t.
I wouldn’t allow it.
I didn’t waste ti.
I drove straight to the one place that made my blood boil just thinking about it.
My father’s estate.
Dorian Harrington.
If anyone had answers—or was behind this—it was him.
I banged on the door heavily. When one of the maids finally opened it, I stord inside, ignoring her startled greeting.
"Where is she?" I demanded the mont I saw him sitting in the living room with a glass in hand.
Dorian barely looked up from his drink, his expression calm and infuriatingly composed.
"I see you’ve lost what little manners you had left," he said coolly.
"Don’t fucking play gas with , Dad!" I snapped, stepping closer. "What did you do to Octavia?"
That got his attention. He stood slowly, setting his glass down with deliberate care.
"I did nothing to that girl," he said evenly.
"I don’t believe you!" I shouted, anger surging hot through my veins.
"Then that’s your problem," he replied coldly.
"You think I wouldn’t figure it out?" I stepped even closer, voice low and dangerous. "You think I don’t know how you operate?"
"And you think I’d harm the son I disowned by extension?" he shot back.
"I think you’re capable of anything!"
We were inches apart now, tension snapping like a live wire ready to break.
"Careful," Dorian warned.
"Or what?" I challenged.
Before anything could escalate further, a force slamd into from the side. I staggered back, pain exploding across my mouth. Blood filled my mouth instantly. I looked up.
Kieran Townsend.
Of course.
Always him.
Standing between us like a silent, unmovable machine.
I wiped the blood from my lip slowly, then looked back at my father.
"If I find out you had anything to do with this..." I said, my voice low and deadly, "I will kill you."
The room went dead silent.
Dorian didn’t flinch.
But sothing in his eyes shifted—just slightly.
I turned on my heel and walked out.
Because if I stayed any longer, one of us wouldn’t make it out alive.
And right now, I had soone far more important to find.
Octavia.
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