KAYROS'S POV
Three hideouts blown to ash. Set on fire. Men killed. Blood spilled.
Yet no trace of her.
Dimitri claims they never broke into the Blackwood estate.
Timofey says I've lost my mind.
Vincent is threatening war.
I stand in the command center of Black Wolf, surrounded by hundreds of glowing monitors that only remind me of my failure.
Fifty hours.
That's how long it's been since the Blackwood butler found her room empty.
My hands won't stop shaking. My blood feels like ice.
Two hundred of Black Wolf's best techs are scouring every digital footprint, cross-referencing CCTV, hacking into traffic cameras and satellite feeds. The rapid clatter of keyboards fills the air. I haven't slept. Haven't eaten. Haven't moved from this spot in five hours.
For the first time in a very, very long time… I feel fear.
Not the cold, calculating kind. This is a raw, clawing panic that makes my skin crawl. Something deeper than anything I've faced in two lifetimes.
I close my eyes, and all I see is her. Three months ago, at Crescent Moon. Bright. Unapologetic. Proud. Chaotic. Shaking something loose inside me just by existing.
A dull ache pounds behind my eyes. Memories flood in—her smirk, her laugh, the way she called me Pudding just to piss me off. None of it helps.
Only one thought echoes in the hollow of my chest:
Where are you? Are you safe? Are you hurt? Please… please be safe. Please wait for me, Odette.
"Kay."
Czar nudges my arm, his eyes heavy with concern and exhaustion from executing my orders.
"No trace?" I mutter, already knowing the answer.
He shakes his head slowly, as if ashamed to give me the news.
"But things at the Blackwood estate aren't good," Czar says, his voice low.
I turn to him, frowning. I've been so focused on finding her, I haven't paid attention to Raphael Blackwood's reaction. I expected… nothing. Or at least, not much. In our past life, Raphael never truly cared for Ophelia.
Even if Odette is a different soul, she's still in Ophelia's body.
Czar gestures to one of the monitors. "Take a look."
He says something to the tech beside him. The screen changes.
It's a CCTV feed from inside the Blackwood family's private study—a secret room where Aaron's father planted a camera years ago, just in case.
Raphael Blackwood sits at the head of a long wooden table. Candles flicker in wall sconces, casting shadows across the faces of seven White Rose mob leaders. The air in the feed looks thick with tension.
I lean closer as Czar hands me an earpiece.
Raphael's cold voice rumbles through the speaker. "No information yet?"
One of the men—Jackson Cooper, Raphael's most trusted smuggler—shakes his head. "No."
Raphael kicks his chair back and stands, slamming his palms on the table with a force that makes the speakers crackle.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T TRACE MY DAUGHTER? THAT CHILD IS MINE, AND YOU CAN'T FIND HER WITH ALL OUR RESOURCES?"
My eyes widen. That's not the voice of a man who doesn't care. That's the roar of a lion who's lost his cub.
"What the fuck?" I whisper.
Czar just nods, urging me to keep listening.
Jackson gulps, visibly trembling. "Boss… we can't just infiltrate the military and special forces networks of five nations—"
"SO?"
"Boss… the Black family insists they didn't take the young miss—"
"AND SINCE WHEN DO I TRUST THOSE MILITARY BASTARDS?"
Czar inhales sharply beside me. My mind reels.
Wait… what?
I zoom in on the screen. Wasn't Raphael close to the Black family in my past life? Just yesterday, he seemed angry at Odette for confronting Jessica.
Czar mutters under his breath, "Could Raphael have been playing a long game no one knew about?"
Jackson's voice strains through the feed. "Boss… you've declared war on the Black family by locking Jessica in the north wing. The General won't let this go."
I almost choke.
Jessica Black—the Black family's weakness—is locked up in the Blackwood mansion. Raphael is burning a bridge that's stood for decades, all over a daughter he's supposed to disdain.
Czar pulls out his earpiece, looking at me with disbelief. "You've declared war on the Bratva, and your future father-in-law is about to shatter the silent agreement between the government and the mafia… for the same girl you both called a problem."
I shoot him a sharp glare.
He flinches, laughing nervously. "Right, right. Ophelia's your fiancée. His daughter. Of course."
He pauses, then turns serious again. "Kay… what if it's not Dimitri or the Black family? What if it's someone else?"
My jaw clenches. "Then who? Who else would be insane enough to bypass Blackwood security and kidnap her from her own bedroom?"
The men in the command center tense under the chill in my voice.
Czar shakes his head. "Think about it. The government wouldn't risk the balance. The Dimitris aren't that stupid—we're talking about Timofey. He's arrogant, not suicidal."
I rub my temples, my hands itching to strangle someone—even Czar, even though he's making sense.
If not Dimitri, and not the Black family… then who?
Czar lowers his voice. "We haven't checked the Medicis. They didn't attend the engagement."
I frown. "Why would Azriel Medici bother with her?"
"True," Czar says thoughtfully. "He's not the violent type. But…"
Suddenly, it clicks.
A cold, dark realization settles in my gut.
I stand up so fast my chair topples over. "Hack into the security system of the Medici island. Now."
Czar's eyes widen. "Wait—no! Kay, we can't afford to get caught breaching their firewall!"
I ignore him, leaning over the nearest tech. "Do it."
My men work swiftly, fingers flying across keyboards. Firewalls fall one by one. Czar watches, tension lining his shoulders.
"Czar," I say, my voice flat. "Tell Alexander to bring me Rhys's assistant. Sarah Mars."
He raises an eyebrow. "That quiet girl who follows Rhys everywhere?"
I nod.
No one knows yet, but Sarah Mars isn't just an assistant. She's the lost daughter of the Medici family. In my past life, Ophelia's actions led to Sarah's death, and the Medicis came after her like vengeance incarnate. I helped Ophelia wipe them out—a fool in love.
What if, in this life, the Medicis already know about Sarah? What if they took Odette as leverage?
Odette wouldn't even know what she's caught in. She'd just be… collateral.
"Kay," Czar says suspiciously, after relaying the order to Alexander. "You're hiding something."
On the main monitor, the live satellite feed of the Medici island loads. White Mediterranean villas. Lush gardens. Mountains hiding the headquarters of Seven Cross.
"Zoom in," I order.
Drones aren't just for offense. Black Wolf rules the underworld for a reason.
And then… I see her.
My breath catches. My knees nearly buckle.
Odette.
Standing on a sun-drenched balcony, a teacup in her hand.
Czar gasps. "It's Ophelia!"
A choked, disbelieving laugh rises in my throat.
Here I am. Burning down Dimitri hideouts. Losing my mind. Bleeding rage across two countries.
And there she is. Soaking up the Mediterranean sun. Sipping tea. Laughing at something a maid says, her hair tousled by the sea breeze.
I run a hand through my hair, my shoulders slumping in relief for the first time in fifty-one hours.
"Tell Alexander to hurry with Sarah Mars," I say, my voice steadier now.
"You're giving weird orders today," Czar mutters, but he's already on the line.
I pause the footage, zooming in until her face fills the screen. The sun catches her smile. Her eyes—hazel green, sparkling with that familiar, infuriating confidence. My heart aches and swells all at once.
Next time, I vow silently, I'm putting a tracker on her. Implanted if I have to.
Because this has proven one thing beyond doubt:
I don't know what this is—this twisting, possessive, terrifying need. But I do know this:
I will burn the entire underworld to the ground if anything happens to her.
So for my own sanity… I need her safe.
Right where I can see her.