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I check the Patek on my wrist. It's not even midnight yet. There's no reason for the door to be closed. Someone has to be inside. Someone's always inside. Wesley knocks then tries the door again, then turns to me.
He's still wearing that pathetic look on his face.
God. How the fuck did I ever trust him? I push him aside and walk over to the door. It's a heavy one, probably made of reinforced steel. But the knob looks like the weakest point.
"Back up."
It takes four rounds for the knob to come loose. The gunshots send some people scurrying, but the staff obviously recognize me, for they keep their distance. Stuarts steps up to jiggle the lock until the door swings open.
We push it open to a grisly scene.
The two security guards on duty are slumped in their seats, both with gunshot wounds to the head. I watch as Wesley checks them for signs of life.
"They're both dead."
That was obvious. There's so much fucking blood.
The security room isn't much bigger than a broom closet, which is ridiculous considering the calibre of this place. There are dozens of screens lining an entire wall. All of them are displaying a video feed except one.
It doesn't take me long to realise that the missing feed is supposed to show the hallways just outside the door. My stomach sinks as the evidence starts to fall into place. Whoever took Alize killed these security guards to cover their tracks.
Sure enough, there's a feed with a clear view of the garden.
Has it been tampered with, or did they get rid of these two security guards so they wouldn't raise an alarm? Nothing is making sense.
I catch Wesley's attention with a snap of my fingers.
"Let Ben know about these bodies," I say, my gaze settling on the pale face of one of the dead guards. His eyes are wide and glassy. Their deaths were sloppy. This would be an unnecessary complication if anyone affiliated with the Empire was responsible. "Avoid telling him that Alize is missing if possible. The less people know, the better."
All I can picture is my father's smug face.
Even if he isn't responsible for Alize's kidnapping, it still serves his purpose well. All I care about right now is finding her, making sure she's safe. Once I'm sure of that, I can rain down hellfire on the person who dared to touch her in the first place.
"Yes, sir," Wesley says with a nod. He disappears out the door.
I wheel the bodies to the other end of the tiny room, freeing up space in front of the wall of televisions.
"I need to see the garden footage," I tell Stuart. "And the one from the terrace. Rewind them both."
Stuart grunts a response and gets to work.
I'm tapping my foot against the blood-soaked carpet to keep myself grounded. This still feels like a dream. Like in a moment, I'll step out of this room and Alize will be standing in the hallway with her arms akimbo, chiding me for disappearing after I spoke to Ottilie and Jeffrey.
My head pounds, all the words left unspoken swirling in my mind.
I'm fracturing. I can't lose her.
She's carrying my child.
She's my life.
"Holy shit."
Stuart’s voice seeps into my thoughts. I blink twice, finally coming back to reality. He's staring at one of the screens, the one that shows the feed from the garden. His lips are moving, but I can't hear what he's saying.
I move to stand beside him.
"Look at this," he mumbles, then he rewinds the tape and plays it for me.
