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“Rest assured, we’re doing everything we can,” Harris reassured him.
“Everything seems insufficient when someone you care about is in danger,” Theodore muttered. His mind raced with scenarios, each more harrowing than the last. The thought of Nicole, spirited and brave Nicole, at the mercy of cold-hearted abductors, sent shards of ice through his veins. If they hurt her, they wouldn’t live to tell the tale.
“Sir, we should consider your safety as well,” another officer interjected.
“Protecting Nicole is my priority,” he stated, voice resonating with a conviction that left no room for argument.
“Understood, Your Highness. We’ll coordinate with the royal guard and ensure your security during the search,” Harris confirmed.
As the officers dispersed to carry out their directives, Theodore’s gaze returned to the sprawling map before him. He wanted to be at the forefront of the investigation, but he couldn’t. Not at that moment.
“Nicole would never give up,” he thought, his mind clinging to the image of her determined eyes, the curve of her smile even in adversity.
“Find her,” he whispered, not as a command but as a prayer. He hated himself for the role he played in this, for it was his world, his birthright, that had ensnared her in its gilded cage.
The royal doctor stepped into the room then, motioning for Theodore to sit on a chair. He sighed and did as he was told, knowing that the sooner his head injury was checked, the sooner he would be able to help find Nicole.
“I want to admit you,” the doctor said. “I think you may have a concussion.”
Theodore shook his head, ignoring the extra pain that brought. “No, I must help find Nicole.”
The physician sighed. “Sometimes, you need to think of yourself first.”
“I’m glad this isn’t one of them,” Theodore said, getting back to his feet. The danger to Nicole was much graver than the danger to him. He wasn’t about to lie around while he waited for news on the woman he loved.
“Your Highness?” Harris’s voice broke through his reverie.
“Lead the way, Detective,” Theodore said, straightening his shoulders as he followed the man toward the fleet of vehicles waiting outside.
“Nicole,” he promised under his breath, “I will find you.”
The grand doors of Marquis Christopher’s townhome yielded to the might of the police battering ram with an unceremonious crash that seemed almost sacrilegious in the stillness of the opulent neighborhood. Theodore, flanked by a squadron of officers, felt the pulse of his heart synchronize with each heavy footfall as they swept into the marble foyer.
“Clear!” The call rang out from room to room, a chorus of confirmation that only deepened the pit in Theodore’s stomach. He clutched the cold metal of the antique railing as he ascended the spiral staircase, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner for a sign of her presence.
“Anything?” His voice was barely above a whisper, strained with the effort of hope against reason.
“Nothing, sir,” replied Harris, his tone clinical yet not without empathy. “We’ve checked the upper floors. No signs of her.”
“Nicole,” he murmured, allowing himself a moment’s indulgence—a memory of her wry smile as she teased him about his ‘royal bearing.’ How hollow the jest felt now, how dearly he longed to hear it once more.
“Your Highness,” Harris approached, his footsteps careful and measured, “we should continue searching the grounds.”
“Of course,” Theodore managed, steeling himself as he followed the detective back downstairs. His gaze lingered on the ornate pieces of art and the lavish decor, each a taunt to his desperation. Where could she be?
“Search the east wing again,” Theodore commanded, trying to mask his trembling voice with authority. “She has to be here.”
“Understood.” Harris signaled to his team, and they dispersed to do as ordered.
As the search party moved like specters through the silent halls, Theodore’s heart waged its war between duty and dread. How many times had he walked these rooms, blissfully unaware of the perils that lurked beneath the veneer of nobility?
“Damn it,” he muttered, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Where are you, Nicole?”
He wandered into the library, the scent of aged leather and mahogany failing to offer any comfort. His father’s words echoed in his mind: “Duty above all, Theodore. To protect and serve is the highest honor.”
“Sir,” an officer called from the doorway, “the garden... It’s clear. There’s no sign of her.”
“Keep looking,” Theodore insisted. “Every corner, every shadow.”
