Chapter 5 ~ Wear my face

IAN

I barely have my shit together these days. Losing my wife is not exactly helping my situation. 

My heart beats at an angry speed while I pace on the road, dialing Anderson's number.

I'm fucking angry. At what I don't know. It's not his fault because I clearly told him to stand down but I can't help it. She wasn't supposed to go missing, not when I'm still trying to figure out what to do with our predicament. 

He picks up immediately. 

“Anderson, I want you to search every road right now,” I bark into the phone, my voice hard with panic and barely-contained rage. “Every. Damn. Road.”

“I’m on it right away sir!” Comes his response. 

“Find out how she got out of here. If she was rescued and taken to a hospital, I want to be the first to fucking know. Call dispatch, check ambulances, everything. Hack every goddamn hospital record if you have to.”

“Yes, sir,”

I end the call without another word.

My hands are shaking. The blood pounding in my ears is louder than anything within a mile. 

I continue to pace, my shoes crunching broken glass under my feet in the process. 

Think.

Think, Ian.

She’s not here.

There’s no blood trail. No footprints. No body.

If she was at a hospital, they would have called me. I'm her husband and she's Alex's sister. A famous billionaire and my best friend, so it shouldn't be hard to identify her. 

So, did someone take her?

Or… did someone rescue her?

My jaw clenches.

I pull out my phone and go to the one person I know can crack open any system like a tin can without leaking a word.

I hit the call button.

It barely rings before he answers.

“If it isn't my favorite doctor.”

“I need your help,” I immediately get straight to the point, skipping the pleasantries.

He goes quiet, his tone instantly serious. “Whatever you need, brother.”

“My wife…” I pause, the words strangling me for a second. “My wife was in an accident. A bad one. I found the car wreck. But she’s not here. And I don’t know what happened.”

“Shit,” Zane mutters under his breath. 

“Alright. Do you have the location?”

“I’m sending you my coordinates now.” I hit send while still on call. “It’s a private road. Barely any traffic. But I need you to tap into all the surveillance you can get, traffic cams, estate gates, drones, even private home security if possible. Anything with eyes.”

“I’m on it,” he says. “Give me twenty minutes. If anyone or anything saw her. I'll find it.”

“Thanks man,” I reply, my throat feeling dry. “Because if someone took her, Zane…”

“I know,” he says, “I know.”

………..

Every second that passes feels like eternal torture.

Anderson came up empty.

No dispatch calls. No emergency reports. No hospital intake logs. It’s like she vanished from the wreck like vapor in the fucking wind.

Which only leaves one conclusion,

Someone took her.

The thought burns like acid in my chest.

My hands tighten into fists at my sides as I stand by the wreck, my eyes locked on the shattered glass. It's like staring right at my soul. Because that's how shattered I am from all the mess going on. But right now, the most important thing is to find Sloane. 

The phone in my grip vibrates and flashes “Zane.”

I slide right to answer, 

“Talk to me,” 

“I got something,” he says, in a calm and collected tone. The exact opposite of what I am. “It’s blurry and quick, but one of the outer cams near a supply warehouse caught her face. She looked hurt, like she was half-conscious.”

My entire body locks up. “Where?”

“I’m sending you the coordinates now,” he says. “It’s an abandoned freight yard on the outskirts of town. Not on most maps. But it’s active since someone’s using it. There were two guys dragging her into a black van. With no plates.”

“I swear to God…” I grit, fury curling through my chest like wildfire.

“I figured you’d want names,” Zane goes on. “I’m pulling everything I can from the warehouse servers. If they’re stupid enough to leave digital footprints, I’ll find them. Give me another ten minutes.”

“No,” I say, already moving. “I don’t need names to curve their fucking souls out.”

There’s a pause on his side as I get into my car. 

 “Should I come with backup?”

I unlock my glove compartment and pull out the matte-black Glock I haven’t touched in two years. My hands shake as I try to touch it. 

Fuck!

Since my mother was shot, I haven't been able to hold a gun much less, use it. So I guess it will have to be a fucking fist fight.

Now would have been a great time to overcome this stupid feeling. 

I start my engine while calling Anderson. 

“Sir.”

“I've found her. I need you and bring Axel with you.”

“Ye…what?” 

“Did I fucking stutter? Bring him along.” I cut the line. 

I punch the gas pedal.

My tires screech against the road as I tear off toward the warehouse, every inch of my body coiled like a loaded weapon.

Whoever took her just made the worst mistake of their life.

Because I’m bringing hell with me.

And hell wears my fucking face.