Chapter 32: You’re going to disappear
Nicholas’s car rolled to a stop outside the warehouse. The moment the engine died, the air shifted—his men straightened, fell silent, and the only sounds were the clicking of shoes on gravel as Nicholas stepped out. Clad in a charcoal suit, coat fluttering with the wind, he looked every inch the devil dressed for vengeance.
His expression was unreadable, carved in stone. But the fury... it simmered just beneath the surface, quiet and restrained like the eye of a storm waiting to be unleashed.
The heavy steel doors creaked open at his approach. He stepped inside the warehouse, his footsteps echoing ominously. The overhead bulbs buzzed to life, bathing the space in harsh, flickering light. In the center of the room sat Ryan—bloodied, tied to a metal chair, ankles and wrists bound with thick leather straps.
The smell of blood, piss, and fear lingered in the air.
Nicholas’s men stood back, forming a circle around Ryan like spectators to a ritual. And in many ways, it was one.
Ryan groaned and looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. His head hung low, swollen eye nearly shut, dried blood crusting his lips. But when his one good eye focused—and he saw Nicholas—his entire body jolted.
Recognition set in like ice water to the spine.
"You," Ryan rasped, voice hoarse from screaming. "You’re the bastard who... took her."
Nicholas tilted his head, regarding him like something beneath his shoe. "Took her?" he echoed, as if the word offended him. "No, Ryan. I rescued her."
Ryan laughed weakly, a broken sound that ended in a cough. "She’s mine. Always was."
Nicholas’s lip curled into something between disgust and amusement. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. "Wrong again."