Page 131 of Bound By Revenge

“I promise,” she says, her voice shaking. “Just… don’t do anything stupid, Kat.”

“I won’t,” I lie, my heart pounding. “I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”

I end the call and set my phone down, my hand lingering on it as guilt twists in my gut.

I glance toward the hallway, my heart racing as I scan for movement, ears straining for any sound. Nik’s office door is closed, but that doesn’t mean he won’t step out at any second.

My breath comes in short, shaky bursts as I pull on my jacket, the weight of what I’m about to do settling heavy on my chest.

I linger by the foyer, my eyes drifting to his office door. Nik is in there, likely buried in work. I could tell him. I should tell him.

But the image of his reaction flashes in my mind—the fury darkening his face, the chaos that would follow. The bloodshed. The loss. The unbearable pain. The guilt coils tighter around my throat, squeezing until it’s hard to breathe.

This isn't something he can know. Not yet.

“I’ll tell you everything,” I murmur to the closed door. “When it’s safe. When this is over. With any luck, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

I grab my keys and step out, letting the door click softly shut behind me. As I descend into the night, I whisper a silent prayer, the weight of my choice pressing down on me.

Chapter 48

Nik

It’sdark outside by the time I finally look up from my work. My eyes burn, and my back protests as I stretch, tight muscles groaning. I glance at the clock and curse under my breath. I didn't realize it was so late.

I need her.

Rolling my shoulders, I push out of my chair and make my way through the penthouse, already imagining her in bed, wrapped up in blankets. Just the thought makes my chest ache. I open the door to our bedroom, ready to see her.

But the bed’s empty. The covers haven’t even been touched.

Frowning, I head to the kitchen. She loves her late-night snacks. She’s probably raiding the fridge or sneaking cookies. It’s almost a sure thing.

But when I flick on the lights, the kitchen’s empty too.

Frustration creeps in as I rub my eyes. She’s probably in the guest room. Maybe she went back to grab something she left behind—or maybe she’s trying to mess with me. That sounds like her.

Fine. If she wants to play games, I’ll bite.

But when I shove the door open, the bed’s perfectly made. The room's empty.

A knot twists in my gut as I start moving faster, checking every room. Lights flick on. Doors slam open. Her name echoes through the penthouse, but silence is the only answer.

And then it hits me—a cold, gut-wrenching realization.

She’s gone.

I don’t know where the fuck she is.

I don’t know if she’s safe.

Enraged, I storm to the other wing of the penthouse, heading straight for the security room. I don’t bother knocking—I barely stop myself from kicking the door off its hinges.

Inside, a youngshestyorka—his name escapes me—chokes on his coffee, his eyes going wide as a deer’s. Vladmir, sitting stoically beside him, glances up, his only reaction a slight lift of his brows.

“Where is she?” I snap before either of them can speak.

The two exchange a look, and something in my chest tightens.

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