CHAPTER 33
Dominic’s POV
I didn’t sleep. How could I?
I spent the entire night in the living room, phone clutched in my hand, staring at the door like if I just focused hard enough, Ethan would walk through it.
The silence pressed against me until it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Every creak of the building, every gust of wind outside, jolted me upright.
But the door never opened. My phone never rang.
At some point, around three in the morning, exhaustion pulled me under for a few minutes. I woje up and he still wasn’t here.
“Come on, Ethan,” I muttered into the stillness. “Where the hell are you?”
I tried his phone again. Straight to voicemail. The sound of his recorded greeting was almost unbearable now.
I hung up before the beep.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. I felt it in my bones.
At six, I gave up pretending to wait. I’d already checked in with Clara once around dawn, and she’d promised she’d keep calling people from work.
“Still nothing,” she’d said, her voice tight with concern. “Dominic, I…I’m starting to get really worried too.”
“Me too,” I’d said hoarsely. “If you hear anything….”
“I’ll call you immediately,” she’d promised. “Please… just try to stay calm.” As if that was even remotely possible.
By eight, I was half out of my mind with anxiety. I’d just thrown on a jacket and was about to head back to the building when my phone buzzed.
My heart lurched. Ethan. But it wasn’t Ethan. The notification wasn’t a call or a text. It was a video message.
The video was shaky at first, but then I saw him. Ethan.
He was sitting on a concrete floor, hands bound behind his back, a filthy gag tied around his mouth. His eyes were wild with terror, tears streaking his face.
My chest constricted like someone had shoved a fist into it. He was alive. Thank God, he was alive. But he looked terrified.
A rough voice came from offscreen. Distorted, mechanical, like it had been run through some kind of filter.
“Listen carefully, Dominic. You have something we want.”
My vision tunneled. I clutched the phone so hard my knuckles went white.
“You have twenty-four hours to cancel the Meridian deal,” the voice continued. “Publicly. Completely. If you don’t, Ethan suffers.”
Ethan shook his head violently, making muffled, desperate noises behind the gag.
“Do not call the police. Do not try to find us. If you involve anyone, he dies.”
The camera zoomed in on Ethan’s tear-streaked face. His body trembled as he tried to speak through the gag, his eyes pleading, begging.
“Prove you understand,” the voice said. “We’ll be watching.” The screen went black.
My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped the phone as I fumbled to replay the video.
Ethan. Bound. Gagged. Terrified.
This wasn’t a nightmare. It was real.
And they wanted me.
I drove without direction at first, my mind spinning.
The video had been sent from nowhere. No traceable number, no obvious location. The walls in the background were bare concrete, dimly lit. A warehouse? A basement? It could’ve been anywhere.
I wanted to go to the police, but the voice echoed in my head: If you involve anyone, he dies. My grip tightened on the steering wheel until it hurt. They were watching me. They’d said so. I couldn’t risk it.
All I could do was find Ethan myself. Somehow.
As I rounded a corner near the outskirts of the city, something caught my eye, a car on the side of the road.
Not just any car. Ethan’s car.
I slammed on the brakes so hard my tires screeched. My heart was in my throat as I stumbled out and ran toward it.
The car was half in a ditch, the front end crumpled like it had slammed into something. The driver’s-side door hung open.
“Ethan!” I shouted, my voice cracking.
No answer.
His phone wasn’t there. Neither was his jacket.
It wasn’t just an accident. This was where they’d taken him.
I stumbled back, sucking in huge breaths of cold morning air.
I fell to my knees in the wet grass beside the car, gripping my head.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to no one, to him, to myself. “God, Ethan, I’m so sorry.”
This was my fault.
I forced myself back into the car and drove home, my mind racing.
Every instinct screamed at me to go to the authorities, to hand over the video and let professionals handle it.
But the memory of Ethan’s terrified eyes held me back.
If you involve anyone, he dies. I couldn’t risk it.
For now, all I had was me and maybe Clara.
Clara had been the last person to see him. She might know something, even if she didn’t realize it.
Or maybe she’d seen someone, some detail that could help me piece this together.
We’d only just met but she seemed to care about Ethan. She’d been genuinely worried last night.
Either way, she was the only person I could turn to.
When I pulled into the garage, my hands were still trembling. I sat there for a moment, gripping the wheel, trying to pull myself together.
I had to be strong. For Ethan.
No matter what these people wanted, no matter what it took, I would get him back.
Even if I had to burn my entire world to the ground.
Inside, the apartment felt even emptier than before. I couldn’t stand it. I replayed the video again, forcing myself to look at every detail, every shadow, every flicker of movement.
There was nothing identifiable.
Just Ethan’s terrified face and that cold, distorted voice.
I stopped the video on his expression—eyes wide, tears glistening, his whole body shaking.
“I’m coming for you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Hold on, baby. Just… hold on.”
My phone buzzed again. This time, it was Clara.
“Dominic? Did you find anything?” Her voice was urgent, breathless.
I hesitated. I couldn’t tell her everything, not about the video, not about the message. If they were really watching, I couldn’t risk her safety too.
“I… I found his car,” I said instead. “It was wrecked, outside the city.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Was he…”
“He wasn’t there.” My voice cracked. “But there was blood.”
A beat of silence. Then, softly: “Dominic, I’m so sorry.”
Her sympathy sounded real. Maybe it was.
“We’ll figure this out,” she said firmly. “You’re not alone in this.”
And somewhere out there, Ethan was counting on me to save him.