Chapter 72 Taken Without Permission
30 Minutes Earlier
“Do you have everything in order?” Kieran murmured into his phone, his fingers moving quickly over the keyboard.
Just then, the door slid open slightly and his assistant peeked in. Her cheeks were flushed as she hesitated in the doorway.
“Um, sir... the AGT group is already in the conference room for that meeting,” she said quietly, realizing he was on a call.
Kieran glanced up. “I'll be there. Give me a few minutes.”
She nodded and closed the door with a soft click.
He returned his gaze to the screen. “Have you tracked his movements? I want to know everything he does.”
The response must’ve been affirmative, because his expression shifted slightly—satisfied.
“Good.”
“Okay, boss.”
Then Kieran’s lips twitched. “Give the phone to my wife. And switch to video.”
There was a pause. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to change. It didn’t.
“…Did you hear me?”
The reply made his blood run cold.
“But boss… she’s not back yet.”
Kieran immediately went still.
“What the fuck does that mean? Where is she?”
His fist clenched on the desk.
“Miss Veronica…” the voice began.
But Kieran was already rising from his seat.
“Where did she take her? And why am I just hearing about this now?” He strode across the room, snatching his coat from the rack, his movements sharp and agitated.
“Boss, she said you knew where she was taking the young madam…”
“Fuck,” Kieran muttered under his breath.
“Did she go alone?” he snarled, throwing the door open. The men stationed outside his office immediately snapped to attention.
“Come with me.”
Mirabelle, seated nearby, looked up in confusion. “Sir—?”
He didn’t answer, didn’t even glance her way. The look on his face silenced her instantly.
“No, boss, she didn’t. Killian and Darion went with her, but we didn’t—”
Kieran ended the call and stepped into the elevator, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t remember giving Veronica any permission to take Genesis anywhere—and he never would. Not because he thought she’d hurt her physically. No. But he knew exactly what Veronica was capable of. And he didn’t want Genesis anywhere near that darkness.
“Dammit,” he growled, slamming his hand into the side of the elevator. The doors opened. As they stepped out, he turned sharply to Damon.
“Get Killian or Darion on the line. Ask them where the fuck they are.”
Damon didn’t waste a second. He was already dialing.
Kieran stalked toward his car, searching Veronica’s contact. He dialed. Once. No answer. Twice. Still nothing. The third ring ended with silence.
He yanked the door open and slid into the driver’s seat. Damon got into the passenger side, while three other men piled into the second car.
Kieran started the engine and peeled out of the company garage. His grip on the wheel was like a vice, his jaw clenched hard.
“Fuck. I should’ve made it a rule. No leaving without my permission.” He slammed his palm against the steering wheel once. Twice. “No going anywhere without telling me.”
Yeah, maybe it sounded possessive—crazy, even—but he didn’t care. If it kept her safe, he’d put a damn leash around her neck and never let go.
Damon’s voice cut through the tension. “Where the hell are you?” he asked into the phone, calm but urgent.
Kieran held out a hand. “Give it to me.”
Damon passed the phone over.
Kieran didn’t wait. “You’re dead if she’s hurt,” he said, his voice a cold promise.
“Boss…” Darion’s voice came through.
“Where are you?” Kieran snapped. “Speak fast and I’ll make your death quick.”
Darion gulped audibly. “We’re at a photoshoot. Boss, is there a problem?”
“Where?”
“Lower Manhattan,” Darion stammered. “Private studio on Vesey Street. Studio 9B.”
Silence.
Kieran’s jaw flexed.
“You let her be taken for a photoshoot?”
“It was Miss Veronica’s idea. She said it was cleared with you—”
“It wasn’t.” Kieran’s voice was sharp as a blade. “You fools let her out of our sight for a goddamn shoot?”
“We followed her—”
Kieran cut the call and tossed the phone back to Damon, who caught it one-handed.
His grip on the wheel tightened until his knuckles went white. His fury wasn’t loud—it was quiet. Controlled. Dangerous.
He knew Veronica’s games. Her manipulations. The way she bent people to her will.
She thought she could push boundaries.
She thought wrong.
Kieran and his men stormed in.
Veronica’s voice cracked as she saw him. “Kieran, please… help.”
But he didn’t pause. He kept moving, his presence like a storm rolling in. Veronica’s heartbeat stuttered, but she didn’t drop her fake mask of sadness.
Not yet.
She would.
He’d make sure of it.
As Kieran got closer, Veronica quickly stammered, “S-She agreed to take the pictures, but then she suddenly fainted. I don’t know what’s going on!”
He stopped right in front of her, his gaze falling on his wife slumped in Veronica’s arms. Genesis’s body was limp, her bralette had ridden up, exposing her stomach, and one of the straps was torn. She wore only panties below, her skin soaked, glistening under the harsh lights. The area around her eyes was red—too red.
Then Kieran’s eyes scanned the room.
A chair sat on a raised platform, ropes tied around it. Water pooled around the base. Cameras were stationed at every angle. Just a few feet from the chair, he saw Genesis’s discarded clothes.
And everything clicked into place.
He turned sharply. “Close the doors, Damon,” he said, his voice like ice—flat and dangerous.
Veronica’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What are you doing, Kieran? We need to take her to the hospital!”
He looked back at her, a slow, cold smile spreading across his face. “Shut up.”
“Hand over my wife… and then go take a seat in that chair.”