Sixteen

Desmond’s POV

Three minutes went by. Then five.

I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, eyes locked on the convenience store entrance. The street outside was quiet, too quiet. A single lamppost buzzed above the lot, throwing pale yellow light over the car. Still no sign of them.

My suspicion grew heavier with every passing second.

Ten minutes.

No one needed ten minutes to buy tampons and chocolate.

I cursed under my breath, pushed open the car door, and stepped out. My boots hit the pavement hard as I crossed the lot. The bell over the store’s door chimed when I entered.

The place smelled faintly of bleach and stale chips. A kid behind the counter, early twenties, dark hair, nose ring, slouched over his phone, barely glanced up as I approached. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I’m looking for two women,” I said sharply. “One blonde, one taller with curls. Where did they go?”

The kid blinked at me, confused. “Uh… yeah, they were here. Bought some stuff and left.”

“Through the front?” I pressed.

He shrugged. “Didn’t really see. Paid in cash. Seemed like they were in a hurry, though.”

A cold weight slid down my spine.

I turned on my heel without another word, storming toward the side of the building. The second I spotted the exit door slightly ajar, my gut clenched.

They played me.

I stood there for a moment, jaw tight, trying to force my brain to make sense of it. But there was no sense to make. I’d been distracted. I’d let my guard down when I should’ve known better.

I should’ve seen the signs. The way Mirren hovered behind Brielle earlier, calm in that calculated way, like she’d rehearsed the excuse until it was bulletproof.

My chest tightened with anger.

I yanked my phone out of my pocket and called Brielle. Straight to voicemail.

I tried again. Same thing.

I dialed Mirren next. A recorded voice told me the number was disconnected.

A bitter laugh slipped from my lips. “You think you’re clever, princess?” I muttered.

My hands curled into fists as I stalked back to the car. I slammed the door shut so hard the glass rattled. My grip on the steering wheel turned my knuckles white.

I hit a contact and lifted the phone to my ear.

“Kieran,” I said the second he answered. “The girls ran. Pull every feed you can, gas station, traffic lights, anything nearby. I want to know where they went, who picked them up, and how.”

“On it,” he replied without hesitation. Then a pause. “You think it’s that Jaxon kid?”

I clenched my jaw. I’d looked into Jaxon months ago, back when Brielle’s father—Jonathan—had grumbled about his daughter’s boyfriend breaking her heart. At the time, I’d thought I was being overbearing, intrusive even. Now? I was damn grateful for it.

“I don’t think,” I snapped. “I know. He’s the only idiot Mirren trusts enough to drag into this. Check his car. Plates, phone records, everything. I want a trail ten minutes ago.”

“I’m on it.”

I hung up, catching my own reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyes were dark, my jaw tight. Fury mixed with something else, something heavier.

I’d trusted her. Not completely, but enough. Enough to let her talk me into leaving the house tonight. Enough to believe her smile yesterday meant she understood why I was trying to keep her safe.

That was my mistake. Thinking she understood.

I shoved the car into gear and tore out of the lot, the road blurring under my headlights as I headed back to the mansion.

Every possibility spun through my mind. Did Brielle plan this from the start with Mirren, or was she pressured into it? Was it rebellion or desperation?

The moment I walked through the front door, I tried calling her again. Straight to voicemail.

Frustration boiled inside me. I called Jonathan next.

He answered almost immediately. “Desmond?” His voice was tight, wary.

“She’s gone,” I said bluntly. “Brielle and Mirren slipped away during a store run. They’re with Jaxon.”

A heavy silence. Then Jonathan cursed under his breath. “That stupid boy. Are they safe?”

“They better be,” I growled. “I should’ve seen it coming.”

“Do you want me to call her?” he asked, worry threading his tone.

“No. You need distance from her right now. If she hears your voice, she’ll only dig in deeper. Let me handle this. I’ll find her before she realizes I’m already looking.”

Jonathan hesitated, then sighed. “She’s not a prisoner, Desmond.”

“No,” I admitted, my voice low. “But she’s walking straight into something bigger than she can imagine. And I can’t protect her if I don’t know where she is.”

“Please,” he said softly. “Just bring her back safe.”

“I will,” I promised, before ending the call.

The promise burned in my chest like a brand.

I slammed my fist against the wall. “Damn it!” The sound echoed through the empty hall.

Her actions weren’t just reckless. They were dangerous.

I raked a hand through my hair, pacing, trying to think of possible places she might run. Mirren’s apartment? Too obvious. Brielle’s old house? Empty.

My phone rang, cutting off my spiraling thoughts. Kieran again.

“Talk,” I barked.

“Boss, we traced a black Honda Civic, Jaxon Maddox’s. Left the alley behind the store at the exact time the girls disappeared. Headed toward the city. Picked it up again on an intersection cam.”

“Where?”

“Closest landmark’s a club called Blue Ember. Sketchy part of town. Packed on weekends.”

I didn’t even let him finish before I grabbed my keys again.

Of course. Of course Mirren would drag Brielle into a filthy club crawling with danger. It was her style, reckless, loud, and impulsive.

But Brielle?

She wasn’t made for that. Not yet. She didn’t understand the kind of threats waiting in places like that.

My blood roared in my ears as I shoved the engine to life.

She thought this was about freedom. About escaping me.

But it wasn’t just the club she was walking into. It wasn’t just a night out.

It was a storm she couldn’t see coming.

And I was coming after her.

Not because I needed control.

Because I needed her safe. Whole.

Because whether she realized it or not..

She was mine.