Page 110 of Of Light and Dark

George glances around the room before his gaze settles back on me. "Nate has been missing for over twenty-four hours."

My eyes widen. How is this possible? I open my mouth to ask exactly that but am interrupted.

"Could he be involved in Lilly’s disappearance?" my father inquires in the same tone I’ve heard him speak in so many times on his business calls.

"No way!" I snap at my father, whose eyes widen at my outburst. I press my hand against my chest, feeling my heart beating against my palm.

"No," George replies, a lot calmer. "Nate would do anything for Lilly. He's been searching for her for over ten years."

"Ten?" Dad’s eyebrows shoot up.

Ah, he’s catching on.

No one elaborates, though, and George continues, "Nate landed in Paris around midnight local time. He texted me that he would get some sleep and be in touch in the morning before his meeting. That was the last time I communicated with him. I tried his phone and Hank’s several times, but they went straight to voicemail."

"Hank is with him?" I narrow my eyes.

"Hank goes everywhere Nate goes." There is disdain in George’s tone that I’ve never heard before.

"What about Joel?" Lilly told me about Nate’s pilot.

George nods approvingly. "I contacted Joel. He went to Nate's suite at the hotel. No one was there. He alerted our local security staff and was working with them last we spoke. I've been focused on this scene since. Nate is capable; Lilly is my first priority."

My father has been typing on his phone the entire time when his eyes suddenly snap up. Something must've clicked, and he walks out of the room like his ass is on fire.

"What’s up with your dad?" Wes mumbles to me, but I only shrug.

"Who the fuck knows." Or cares.

Denielle yawns, and I glance at the antique clock in the corner. It’s almost two in the morning, and I can’t stop my own yawn.

"Now that everyone is here, I am calling Joel again. Why don't you three get some rest? I’ll get you if we receive any news." George sweeps our faces one by one.

He’s out of his mind if he thinks I’d be able to sleep.

But knowing George, there's also no use in arguing. We're dismissed—for now. We follow him upstairs, where he shows Wes to a spare room. Denielle walks past all of us and disappears inside. I cock an eyebrow at my best friend, who shakes his head at me—don't ask—and then follows her, closing the door.

I turn to face George, who is already making his way to another set of stairs. Too exhausted to question him why I'm not staying on this floor, I follow. I get my answer when he opens a door on the third floor.

Lilly’s bedroom.

My eyes wander over the cream-colored décor. The bed is unmade, and clothes are hanging over the chair in the corner. I swallow over the lump in my throat as I step farther into the room.

"I’ll be on the first floor if you need me." I nod, acknowledging him but not turning around. The click as the door closes indicates that I am alone.

I don't emerge againuntil 10:30.

After taking a shower and changing into sweats and a t-shirt, I had sat down on Lilly's bed. Falling backward, I pulled one of her pillows over my face. The remnants of the same shampoo she uses at home registered in my nose, and my eyes started to burn.

I was so fucking sick of bawling like a baby.

Clutching the pillow tighter, it muffled my sobs. I imagined her moving around the room, standing by the window, looking out. I want her back. This...situation makes everything else seem so unimportant.

I didn't think I would sleep, but I must've passed out eventually. The next thing I know, I'm blinking against the sunlight. My mouth is dry, and the back of my throat feels like I gargled acid—damn crying.

Not bothering to change, I pad downstairs barefoot, where I find George and my father in the breakfast nook of the kitchen. The only reason I am willing to be around anyone is that I need to know if they have news. Two laptops and three phones—one of them more remnants of one—sit between them. My stomach instantly drops, recognizing the device for what it is...was—Lilly’s.

I scan the room. The kitchen appears like nothing ever happened, which, on the one hand, is a relief—I don't think I could've handled seeing the result of the struggle—but on the other hand, it ignites a rage I haven't felt since I discovered what my psycho ex did to my girlfriend. The rational side of my brain is fully aware of how irrational I am. Still, with the room being this impeccable and the two former Marines lounging there like they're long-lost buddies, chatting casually over some joe, I want to take another swing at George. Or Dad. Or both. Definitely both.

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