Page 8 of The Predator

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Page 8 of The Predator

Yanov slams the door closed, and I find myself surrounded by darkness. Exhaustion makes it hard for me to keep my eyes open.

I need something to hold onto, something to live for, but all I want right now is for death to find me, because even I know in the end, the only way I’ll ever truly be free is when I’m dead.

CHAPTER 3

SEBASTIAN

Irritation pricks my skin. The world blurs around me as I force myself through the motions. I tug on the first thing I can find, a pair of jeans, followed by one of my football sweatshirts. All my attention funnels into figuring out where the hell Elyse is.

It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to call her father right this second and demand to know where the hell she is. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I’m not one-hundred percent certain she didn’t leave on her own.

I can’t imagine her leaving, though, not after the night we shared.

Elyse wanted to be with me. She was happy, content even.Unless I imagined it all. No.She wouldn’t have left the bed unless she was provoked. I repeat the thought back to myself, but doubt still finds a way to seep into the cracks of my mind.

Fuck.If she left by her own choice, disappearing into the night, because she thought she could get away from me… I don’t know what I’ll do. The dark, fucked up places my thoughts go in that instant terrify me. When it comes to Elyse, her safety, and keeping her at my side, there isn’t anything I won’t do. No one I won’t destroy, or kill, if it comes to that.

And no amount of begging and pleading for my forgiveness will save her from my wrath.

Even as the idea of punishment rolls around my head, I can't ignore the gnawing in my gut that something else is wrong. Elyse is smart. She wouldn’t leave, and I can’t make myself believe otherwise. If my hunch is correct, I’ll do everything in my fucking power to get Ely back and destroy the person who took her. There are always consequences. And in this case...deadly ones.

Before that, I need confirmation—proof—and the security camera footage will give me what I want. If I can see what happened, then maybe I can piece the rest of the puzzle together.

Pausing in the kitchen, I take a moment to breathe and roll my shoulders to release some tension. She wouldn’t leave; she wouldn’t. Even as I tell myself that, though, I don’t completely believe it. What if she heard my conversation with Tanya…what if she left because she thinks the baby…? Could she have heard what happened with Tanya and run away?

The muscles in my stomach tighten, panic crawling up under my ribs to seize my heart. The shit with Tanya is something I never wanted Elyse to know.

What if she thinks I'm disgusting once the truth comes out? Once she discovers how filthy I really am?

I can’t handle it. Slowly, through her eyes, I've come to see myself in a different light, and I don’t want to lose that.I can’t lose that.The best parts of me shine brightly through her, and without her, I’m merely a shell of the man I was.

I do my best to suppress the doubt. I don't know anything yet, and until I do, letting my brain conjure up wild ideas isn’t going to help.I need proof.Exiting the kitchen, I continue down to the security room.

When I enter the space I find it’s still empty, only adding to my unease.

Where the hell is everyone?Throwing myself into one of the rolling chairs in front of the monitors, I try to log into the system but an error message pops up on the screen.

What the fuck?

I scan the real time monitors, searching for either of the security guards who are supposed to be on duty.Finally!I spot one coming in through the back door of the kitchen. It’s the oldest member of the security team, a guy who’s been here since my grandfather was alive. I don’t know if I should be thankful or throttle him to death.

Shoving out of the chair, I race from the room, intending to catch him at the top of the stairs. Adrenaline pumps in my veins, the need to find Elyse guiding me.

As soon as he spots me, he freezes. "Sir?" His voice shakes, and I can fucking see the worry and fear in his eyes, the guilt spiderwebbing across his face like broken glass.

He knows something.

"Hayes, you've been here for years." I meet him head on and stare him down. "You’ve always been loyal to the family. If there was one person we could count on, it was you. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

He looks away, refusing to make eye contact.

“Has your loyalty shifted? ” I tuck my trembling hands into the front pocket of my hoodie. I can’t let him see how close to losing it I am.

I want him afraid, yes, but I also need him to talk, and he won’t if fear is all he has running through his veins.

He blinks and exhales. "I don't know what you’re talking about, sir.”

I grit my teeth against the desire to destroy, to force him to tell me what I want to hear.




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