For every step I think Liam and I take in the right direction, resistance only pulls us back further. A push and pull between us that becomes more tumultuous the longer Malia is gone.
The sun is setting and my mind is starting to spin out of control. These moments happen more often than not lately, and it has been a struggle to wrangle in the impulse to lash out at everyone. I have searched the mansion for my Little Bird to no avail, her cell phone left on the dresser beside our bed.
I swallow down the anger that begins to lodge in my throat as the thought of her leaving takes root. I have been distant from her, locking myself in my office or busying myself with Malia’s hunt, to keep myself from taking my desperation out on Chantelle.
Perhaps she felt she no longer had a reason to stay, with my growing absence. I curse myself for being a fool and trying to hide what is attempting to break free inside me.
But which is worse?
Her running from the bloodthirsty thing I constantly suppress, bringing fear to someone I never want to fear me. Or her running because I have held back and not given her every piece of me, the good and the bad.
I snarl and run out of my bedroom with the intention to hunt Chantelle down and drag her back here by her hair if I need to. My hands shake with the need to wreak carnage just as my future son-in-law is doing. I come to a halt when I see a flash of white hair in one of the living rooms filled with books.
Akila Lorenzo is laid out on the chaise lounge, her face in a book, her brows furrowed as she gets lost in the world she is soaking in. I am taken off guard sometimes at how much she looks like her mother.
It takes a moment for her to realize I am standing at the open door, and she gasps.
“Apologies,” I rasp, before clearing my throat.
I wonder if she knows of her mother and my past. And, if she does, is it truthful knowledge or sugar-coated to place a band-aid over the heartache. She does not look at me like I am the man who brought as much pain as happiness to her mother’s life. I am not sure I deserve kindness from her for that reason alone.
“Have you seen Chantelle?” I ask.
Her lips purse as if she was expecting me to say something else, then she nods her head.
“We were talking in the kitchen, and she saw the gardeners working outside, the ones Elijah called,” she says. “It wasn’t that long ago, but she said she was going to take a walk around the property since it’s warm today.”
“Thank you,” I say and Akila smiles at me.
I hope my nephew is not as much of a moron as I was with Alya and never lets Akila go. She is good for Lion. I have seen almost as much change in him as I saw in Malia before our world exploded around us. If Akila wasn’t here to get Lion through this, I would have a whole different problem on my hands.
I leave Akila to her book and backtrack through the mansion to the foyer. It is a nice day out, warm with the promise of spring coming soon. I take a deep breath of fresh air, letting it fill my lungs as if I have not stepped outside in ages. Come to think of it, it has been a long time. I rarely leave unless we have a lead that requires my personal attention. I would much rather stay here and run through contacts and leads that could potentially take us straight to Malia.
My feet carry me to the main garden on the east side of the mansion. Most people naturally find their way here and, with the gardeners working, it is a likely spot to take pause. Malia found her own personal sanctuary within the field as a child, somewhere she still goes to ease her mind.
Sure enough, Chantelle is standing in the center, admiring the flowers the gardeners have begun to plant. It is a large area where, in the past, we would host business parties outside during the summer. There is no safer place than this hole in the mountain. At least that is how it used to feel. Now it feels less like home, less like my kingdom, and more like a graveyard, tainted and void of energy and life.
Chantelle does not notice me as I approach her. I take in the comfort in her posture as she holds a blanket around her shoulders. I want this to be her home, not just a cage. I want her to stay willingly, and not because I am forcing her to stay here with the threat of something frightening outside the walls surrounding the property.
In the almost twenty-seven years I was with Tawny, I stayed faithful, never straying like I know she did. However, no one truly caught my eye, untilher. The white-haired deity who does not recoil from the man with a reputation of cruelty and ruthlessness to those outside these walls.
I silently close the distance between us before reaching out and grasping her arm. Chantelle squeaks in surprise and I chuckle at the sound. Her green eyes are large, as air whooshes from her lungs when she notices who snuck up on her.
If I have learned anything from my missing daughter, it is to take life by the balls. Should she never return home alive – I vow to live life the way she would. And though love is the only fear I have known Malia to have, once she accepted it, she would never let it go.
“This is going to be beautiful when it’s finished,” she smiles, the evening sun bringing out the warmth in her skin.
I watch my Little Bird as she takes it all in again. Unable to form the words I need to say, I clear my throat and smirk.
“Are there any specific flowers you want to add to your garden?”
Chantelle’s eyes snap to mine, her mouth falls open, then shuts.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve used it for anything. Malia is the only one who comes out here anymore,” I say, tucking my hands into the pockets of my slacks.
Chantelle’s eyebrows furrow and she tilts her head.
“Nate,” she says, then shakes her head. “She will be back, and I won’t take her garden away from her.”