Page 86 of Wanted

All I know is that my Stella doesn’t need them, she’s naturally beautiful, just as she is.

My Hvezda, she shines with her own light.

“Stella!” I call her again, this time with some impatience. “Stella!”

The house is quiet and almost dark. We don’t spend that much time on the first floor, so the lights are all off, except for the lamps on the breakfast bar.

“Stella,” I scream as I climb the stairs, the hairs on my neck rise. Something is going on here.

The tattered sofa on which we usually lay down on to watch movies at night is desolate, as is our room.

Shit.

“Stella?” One more try before I grab my phone from the inside pocket of my jacket and dial her number.

She doesn’t answer, but I can hear the ringtone somewhere in the house. With the phone pressed to my ear, I follow the sound, looking for it. She couldn’t vanish.

Where was she going to go?

How?

And most importantly, why?

The mere thought of someone taking her makes my blood boil, that’s what the security men Jackson sent are here for, and he assured me they are the best in the business.

I find Stella’s iPhone in the kitchen, a photo of the two of us glowing on the screen, she took it the day I took her to the beach.

We look so happy. Really happy.

Where did she go? Whatever she’s playing at, it’s a game that I don’t find enjoyable. Absolutely not.

Next thing I do is to call the man I know is on call. “Sanders,” I blurt out on the phone as he answers. “I can’t find my wife.”

“I’ll see you in the kitchen in two,” he replies, we need to get organized immediately. Check the cameras, whatever it takes.

A thought flashes in my mind. Could she have overheard my conversation with my mother?

Just thinking about it makes my blood run cold. However, there is something more, how she got out of here.

The security around the house is tight.

If she had taken one of the cars, we would have noticed immediately.

Sanders meets me in the kitchen, as I pour myself a glass of whiskey, I need something strong to help me process all of this. He has an iPad in his hand and after activating an icon, the recordings of the security cameras around the house appear.

Fuck my life, now I regret having decided not to install more little cameras inside the house. Like an idiot I put our privacy above her security. I’m such a dumbass.

“The only person who left the house tonight is your mother, Mr. Kral,” Sanders tells me, yes, I know. And somehow she did, too. “I’ve already sent the boys to check every inch of this house.”

Fine, but I know she’s not here. The mere fact of imagining her wounded or scared makes my skin stand on end, and my blood pressure leans toward heart attack territory. If the bullets couldn’t kill me, this sure will.

Without saying another word, I go to the room, I know that she had kept the dress she was planning to wear tonight protectively in a garment bag. Even though I wanted to see it as soon as she returned from her shopping excursion, once I saw how thrilled she was to surprise me, I decided to go along with it.

No, she definitely wouldn’t leave without telling me.

Not unless she found a compelling enough reason to do so.

Yeah, dickhead, like listening to you yelling at your mom that you never married her, that it was all a lie. That she was just a piece in a complicated game of chess.

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