chapter 19
Elena's POV:
I lay in bed staring at the empty pillow beside me, the silk pillowcase still perfectly smooth and untouched.
The digital clock on the nightstand read 12:47 AM, its red numbers glowing like an accusation in the darkness.
Sebastian was never this late.
In the year I'd been here, this had never happened before. No matter how busy he was, he always came home to sleep beside me. Even when business trips made it impossible to return, he'd stay on the phone with me until I fell asleep.
But tonight, there had been nothing. Complete silence.
I should have been happy about this. Should have been celebrating the first night in twelve months where I could sleep without feeling the weight of his presence beside me, without the constant awareness of being watched, monitored, possessed.
Instead, I found myself tossing and turning, unable to find comfort in the vast expanse of the king-sized bed.
My mind spiraled uncontrollably, cycling through possibilities of where he could be.
I pulled the silk duvet higher, trying to smother the restless energy that had been building in my chest for the past three hours.
The silence of the apartment pressed against my eardrums, and I found myself straining to hear the familiar sounds of his return—the soft ping of the private elevator, the measured footsteps across the marble foyer, the rustle of his jacket being hung in the closet.
None came.
I turned onto my side, facing away from his empty pillow, and squeezed my eyes shut. Sleep. I just needed to sleep, and by morning, this gnawing anxiety would be gone.
The sharp trill of my phone cut through the silence like a blade.
My hand shot out instinctively, muscle memory overriding conscious thought. The screen blazed to life, and Sebastian's name stared back at me in bold letters.
I hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button.
Part of me wanted to let it ring. To pretend I was fast asleep, that I hadn't spent the last three hours tossing and turning because of his absence.
I couldn't let him know that without him here, I couldn't fall asleep at all.
But another part of me, a part I hated to acknowledge, felt relief flooding through my chest at the sight of his name.
Pathetic, I thought viciously.
The phone continued to ring, vibrating against my palm like an increasingly urgent heartbeat.
Against my better judgment, I swiped to answer.
"Sebastian?" My voice came out smaller than I'd intended, sleep-rough and uncertain.
Silence.
Not the empty silence of a dropped call, but something deeper—the weighted quiet of someone on the other end, breathing but not speaking. I could hear it, just barely, the steady rhythm of his breath against the phone.
"Sebastian, what's wrong?" The anxiety that had been simmering all evening crystallized into something sharp and immediate.
"I'm hurt," he said finally, and something cold dropped into my stomach like a stone.
His voice was... off.
"What do you mean?" I was already sitting up, sheets pooling around my waist. "Where are you?"
My mind immediately went to the worst possible scenarios. A fight. A shooting. Or anything terrible.
The line went dead.
Damn him. I stared at the phone in disbelief. What kind of person calls to say they're hurt and then just hangs up?
I sat there for a moment, clutching the phone, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Every instinct screamed at me to stay put. This was probably just another one of his manipulative games, designed to test my reactions.
But my mind cycled through possibilities—each one worse than the last. Sebastian had enemies.
I'm not going because I'm worried about him, I reasoned desperately, pulling on the first jeans I could find. I'm going because I need to know what's happening. I need to understand the situation for my own plans. This is strategic reconnaissance.
Then I called Marcus.
He answered on the second ring, which told me he'd been expecting this call. "Miss Elena?"
"Where is Sebastian?" I demanded, not bothering with pleasantries. "I need you to take me to him. Now."
I heard the sound of car doors slamming in the background. "I'm already on my way to get you. Five minutes."
True to his word, Marcus pulled up to the Aurora Penthouse exactly five minutes later. I was waiting in the lobby, having thrown my hair into a messy bun and grabbed a jacket.
The ride to Club Eden felt endless, though Marcus' speedometer told a different story.
"What happened?" I asked, gripping the leather seat.
"I'm not entirely sure, miss," Marcus said carefully. "Mr. Vane was... dealing with a situation."
Club Eden at this hour was a different beast than I'd expected.
The valet area was busy with expensive cars and well-dressed people who looked like they had nowhere else they needed to be at one in the morning.
Through the tall windows, I could see the warm glow of interior lights and the silhouettes of patrons who moved with the languid confidence of the very wealthy.
Marcus led me through a side entrance, past the main dining area and up a discrete staircase I hadn't noticed during my previous visit. The hallway was dimly lit, lined with heavy wooden doors that probably led to private rooms where deals were struck and secrets were traded.
"Third door," Marcus said, but I'd already heard Sebastian's voice through the walls.