Page 118 of God of War (Legacy of Gods)

“It’s turned off.”

The need to plow a hole the size of my fist into the car pulses beneath my skin, but I keep a cool head. It’s the only way possible to find her.

“Contact the Nash family driver, wake him up from sleep if need be, and ask where they dropped her off. Get access to all surveillance cameras in the area.” I slide into the car and tell the chauffeur, “Airport. Now. If the jet isn’t ready, we’ll take the first commercial flight.”

Henderson slides into the passenger seat, phone to his ear, and talks to his connections with the Met Police.

This is why I shouldn’t have removed the security detail. Tapping my finger on the back of my phone, I recall what happened the last time I had someone trail her.

She was triggered and nearly threw herself off a building.

That shit will never happen again.

I’ll personally find my wife.

After a thorough scanningof the area where Ava was dropped off and hours of restless flying on my part, we locate her.

My wife decided to attend a house party with her despicable waste-of-space friends at Bonneville’s flat in Chelsea’s suburbs.

It’s seven in the morning, but I ring the doorbell impatiently, my mood having darkened to its worst after more than twenty-four hours without sleep.

When no answer comes in the first two seconds, I ring again. And again.

On the fourth ring, groans can be heard from inside.Malegroans. Pieces of absolute rubbish who’ll be chucked through a window if they happen to be breathing the same air as my wife.

The door finally opens, revealing a sleepy Bonneville, who’s still wearing her shimmering silver party dress, her hair messier than her life.

Her puffy eyes widen upon seeing me. “Eli…? Ava said you were in the States.”

“Keyword beingwere.” I push past her, forsaking any manners as I march into her upper-floor flat that she only managed to afford due to trust funds.

A plush rug spills beneath my feet as I step into the room. The walls are adorned with wallpaper in dark, classical tones, adding an air of sophistication to the space. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a warm glow and highlighting the luxurious furnishings. It's a grand display of opulence and excess, a testament to wealth and indulgence. But there's a chaotic mix of modern and vintage decor, as if the owner couldn't decide on a specific style and simply bought everything she could afford.

Like Ava, Bonneville is a spender, not an earner. However, unlike Ava, who’s a classical music genius with technical prowess that made her teachers weep, she has no talent aside from dressing up as if every day is a party.

My feet come to a halt at the edge of the spacious living room, where at least a dozen people are sleeping in unflattering positions. One guy is hugging a plant. A girl is sleeping in aUshape over the arm of a sofa.

I don’t give any of the hedonistic empty shells a second thought, because the reason I even walked into this mess isn’t here.

“Where is she?” I whip my head toward Bonneville, who’s trying to stroke her hair into submission.

“Uh…she was here. I don’t know where she went. You see, we might have gotten a bit crazy last night?—”

“Did you let her drink?”

“No, I didn’t, but…”

“But you threw a party where alcohol was more available than your morals.”

“She crashed the party. She said she wanted to catch up. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

I stride past her and into one of the bedrooms, walking in on unflattering bodies in naked slumber, but since none of them is my target, I walk to the next.

It’s not until I reach Bonneville’s upper-floor pool that overlooks the city that I pause.

And it’s entirely due to a soft string of laughter.Veryfamiliar laughter. And it’s not directed at me.

I shove through the entrance with the devil on my shoulder.

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