𝑇𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

10

~ ilya ~

The bottle crashed to the ground.

Four. Fucking. Days.

96 hours she was gone. Disappeared without a trace.

Hissing, I grabbed another vodka from the mini fridge. I chugged it, savouring the burn. Physical pain was good. It kept me focused, alive. It stopped me from... withering.

Lazily, my eyes circled the room - our room. It was a wreck. The mattress overturned, the mirror shattered, the closet emptied. I searched everything for anything. But to no avail.

I shouldn't have been late. She said 'pick me up at eight' and I fucking didn't. I'd lost track of time and-

And now Phoenix was gone. It was all my fucking fault.

"She ran," was the first thing Aleksey said after surveying the scene. There was a distasteful grimace on his face.

I'd never hit my second-in-command before. But the angry crimson that had invaded my vision was too bright to ignore.

He'd recoiled after my fist met his nose. There was a sickening crunch. It was deafening in my ears, along with the roaring of blood.

"SHE DIDN'T FUCKING RUN!" I had screamed at him.

Her clothes were strewn across the floor. Her nails had raked the paint of the window sill. Weren't those signs of struggle? She'd been taken. She was somewhere out there, waiting for me.

Phoenix wouldn't run. Not after everything. She promised. She loved me, for Christ's sake. She wouldn't run.

Wiping the blood with hooded eyes, Aleksey said to me: "I will find her."

But he fucking lied.

Stephano showed us the CCTV footage from every camera in the shop. Except that was useless. There were no cameras in the back alley, where the window led. And then from there, they could've taken her anywhere.

They could have—

I squeezed my eyes at the thought. The fourth bottle shattered at my feet. I clambered up, using the dresser to stable myself before I strode out of the room.

Lavinia and the children had been moved out. Lord knew where. Apparently I wasn't stable.

But I didn't fucking care. Not right now.

Fishing for my phone, I growled when the fractured screen stung my thumb. When had I dropped it? My chest rose and fell heavily with rage. Why was nothing fucking working? I hurled it to the other side of the room.

The dull thud was unsatisfying. I wanted to hear it explode, to combust. I wanted it to hurt like me. I wanted blood. I wanted vengeance.

I wanted her.

Something, a half scream, half sob, tore itself out of my throb. My fingers found the ends of my hair, tugging forcefully. Good. Pain.

Now where was I?

I took the elevator down to the third floor. My office door was open when I arrived.