Page 47 of Love to Defy You (The Dark Love #2)

“It’s not a conspiracy,” I fire back. “This is real. The guys in the Order are the sons of the world’s elite, and when you’re initiated, you’re promised wealth and influence once you graduate.

My grandfather was in it. That’s how he rose to power, which means my father and I didn’t have a choice but to join. If you refuse, they kill you.”

David sighs, and he sounds more impatient than shocked. “If what you’re saying is true, what does this have to do with Willow?”

“This is my final test,” I explain. “Enzo wants me to come to Andarusia to get her myself, and if I fail, it will be my death sentence.”

“No, don’t even think about breaking exile to come back here.” David goes quiet for a long stretch. “Jesus Christ, you’re serious about this secret society, aren’t you?”

“Dead serious,” I say. “And this stays between us. If anyone finds out you know about the Order, we’ll both be targets.”

“Shit.” David rustles in the background, and it sounds like he’s putting clothes on. “Let me handle this, all right? My security detail might know how to track her down discreetly.”

I lean back in my computer chair and close my eyes. “Thank you.”

“But if he can’t find her by morning, I’m getting the police involved,” David adds.

“You don’t understand!” I slam my fist down on the desk. “They control the police! As soon as you call them, they’ll tip off Enzo, and he’ll make it impossible to find her.”

“Okay, fine, fine.” He pauses, and a woman’s voice, presumably Galina’s, speaks softly in the background. David mutters something unintelligible to her before returning to the phone. “I’ll figure this out. Do not, I repeat, do not break exile. The moment you land, you’ll be arrested.”

“But—“

“I will bring her back to Zurich when I find her,” he says, speaking over me. “Stay home in case Willow finds her way back, okay?”

I rake my hand through my hair and tug on the ends, letting out a long sigh. “Fine. But text me at this phone number when you have updates. Enzo has my phone, so we can’t tip him off that we’re on to him.”

“Understood.” David’s voice is alert and urgent. “I’ll keep you posted.”

The call ends.

Using my computer, I pull up the contact number for DarkSide and punch it into the phone. As always, he answers promptly using a deep voice modulator.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Aleksandr Kurochkin,” I say quickly. “I need you to pull CCTV footage from Olininburg to track down my fiancée. She’s been abducted.”

Computer keys click rapidly in the background. “Send me her full name and a photograph of her face. Where was she last seen?”

I think for a moment. “Most likely her father’s house. She was supposed to take a commercial flight out of Olininburg on Sunday, but I’m not sure if she ever made it to the airport.”

“Send me the address of her father’s house,” DarkSide says. “I’ll try to track her from there.”

“Great.” I put the phone on speaker and start typing up an email with the requested information. “Can I arrange the payment later? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

DarkSide lets out a low, modulated hum. “Considering this is an emergency, I’ll allow it. I know you’re good for it.”

He also knows how to track me down if I don’t pay up.

“And one more thing,” I say. “I need a false identity and a passport. How soon can you get that to me?”

David Baker expects me to sit here and do nothing while my fiancée is missing? Not a chance.

My heart hammers as I wait in the customs line at the airport. I glance out the window and take a deep breath to calm myself. There’s only one chance to get this right, and I need to remain focused.

Fog rolls in across the tarmac, and storm clouds cover the sky in a gloomy gray hue, so thick they completely obscure the setting sun.

I managed to squeeze in a short nap on the plane, but otherwise, I’ve been awake since yesterday evening when I woke up to get ready for the Trial of Sacrifice.

My sleep schedule has been off since my time in sensory deprivation, and I’m only able to sleep for short periods of time.

Exhaustion weighs my body down, but I won’t be able to get a good night’s rest until Willow is safe in my arms.

A shadow flickers in my peripheral, and I tear my gaze from the window to whip my head toward the movement.

And there, standing in front of me in line, is my father.

“Coming back to Andarusia in disguise?” Grigor towers over me, hands clasped behind his back as he regards me with that familiar expression of disapproval. “You’re a disgrace to the Kurochkin name.”

I adjust the baseball cap over my wig, pulling it lower over my eyes. “Your legacy is nothing but a burden.” I glance around to make sure no one else notices him. If I’m seen with another Kurochkin, it will blow my cover. “I look forward to the day no one recognizes me as your son.”

“Perhaps that day is today.” Grigor glances at the customs gate, his smirk twisting with wicked delight.

“Or perhaps not. You’ll never truly escape my legacy, and the sooner you accept that, the better.

” He returns his cold gaze to me. “Either way, here you are. The prodigal son returns home at last.”

I glance at the sign that says Welcome to Olininburg . How do I feel stepping into the country I called home for the first eighteen years of my life? The homeland I never thought I’d see again?

“It feels both familiar and foreign,” I admit, adjusting my backpack on my shoulder. It should be impossible to feel like I belong in a place where I am no longer welcome, a place filled with danger and hostility.

But I’ve lived my whole life in fear—of my father, of losing Willow, of the Order of Apollo. No matter where I go or what I do, fear is my constant companion. It’s all I’ve ever known, and perhaps it’s where I feel most at home.

“Next!” The customs agent waves me forward.

“By the way,” Grigor adds, “happy birthday. You’re twenty years old now. It’s long past time to start acting like a man.”

I glance down at my phone, and sure enough, he’s right. Today is my birthday, and if I had a cake with candles, I’d wish for only one thing—to find Willow alive and untouched.

When I look up from the screen, my father is gone, but his cruel laugh follows me as I approach the counter.

My heart stalls as I hand my passport to a man in a navy uniform. With a bored expression, he flips through the pages as the seconds tick by in silence.

“What brings you to Andarusia?” His question is monotone.

“I’m here for a business meeting.” I keep my voice steady. “Just a quick turnaround trip.”

The customs agent glances at me, then at the passport, no doubt comparing the photograph. With my brown wig, brown contacts, and thick glasses, I hope it’s enough to convince him I’m Stanley Oliver from London, England.

“Enjoy your trip.” The customs agent stamps my passport and hands it back to me.

Relief floods over me. The fake identity worked.

With a stiff nod to the agent, I cross through the glass partition with my backpack slung over my shoulder. It takes great restraint not to sprint toward the taxi line outside, but if I don’t keep a low profile, I’ll never get far enough to rescue Willow.

The thought of her drugged up in Enzo’s clutches makes me blind with rage, and I’m determined to murder Enzo Messina, the spawn of the Sicilian Whore. He will pay for what he’s done to Willow and me, consequences be damned.

I’m coming for you, malishka .