Page 109 of The Bratva Sinner

“Be very careful,” I say quietly. “You’re talking about my wife.”

Anger flashes through her eyes.

“I know who I’m talking about,” she says.

“Then you know the answer to your question. Get me something on Haylie’s location. Tonight.”

Damien drives me home. I sit in the back and stare at nothing for twenty minutes. He doesn’t attempt conversation, and I’m grateful.

I go inside and find Lila in the kitchen.

She’s standing at the counter in her riding clothes, still dusty from the stables, with a glass of water in her hand. She turns when she hears me come in. She’s been crying. Her eyes are swollen, and her lashes are still damp. She’s put herself back together, but not completely.

The guard had texted me from the clearing. She’d needed space, so I’d let her have it, but I’d had eyes on her the whole time.When Cinder called, I couldn’t take the risk and had her pulled back to the house.

“You’re home early,” she says.

“I am.”

She knows I’m not telling her everything. “What happened?”

I pull out a stool at the island and sit. “One of the women left the Brickell house. We’re not sure where she went.”

“Left, or was taken?”

“That’s the question.” I rub my jaw. “My gut says she ran. Someone scared her badly enough that she packed up and walked out.”

“Arlind.”

“Probably.”

Lila sets her glass down carefully. “Is she in danger?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ve got people looking.” I meet her eyes. “I’m not panicking yet. She’s smart. She’s been in this world long enough to know how to disappear if she needs to. All the women who work in this business are savvy.”

She nods slowly. “Do they run away often?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t say often, but they do move on. Some decide they don’t want this life anymore. Others get into trouble and run.”

“Are you okay?” she asks.

The question catches me off-guard. She’s not thinking about what this means for her safety; she’s worried about how I’m holding up.

“I’ve had better evenings,” I admit.

She moves around the island and stops in front of me, placing her hand over my heart.

I cover her hand with mine, and we stay like that for a minute.

“You’ve been crying,” I say.

“I’m fine.”

“I know you’re fine. That’s not what I said.”

“The photograph. It...” She searches for the word. “It opened something up.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you would want it.”