Page 37 of Wrathful King

My fist flew into the mirror, shattering it completely. Tiny broken reflections stared back at me, giving me a preview of what was to become of me.

She’d been gone for a whole fucking month and I’d felt every second of it.

Everyone was getting some shut-eye as Illias’s fleet of private jets brought us closer to our destination. Not me. Every time I closed my eyes, images of my wife fighting for her life threatened to put a match to my anger.

My hand flew into the wall, bending the titanium aluminum.

Someone tapped on the bathroom door, but I was too far gone to react. “Amon, it’s me. Open up.”

Like a drone, I drove through it a second time. And a third, a fourth, a fifth, before Dante’s hands came around my arm, yanking me backward.

I stumbled, and we almost fell from the force of it, but my brother’s back hit the wall.

“Snap out of it, Amon,” he barked. I shook my head, eyes wild. My knuckles were split, droplets of blood falling on the floor. “Are you trying to put a hole through this plane and kill us?”

“I deserve it,” I clipped.

“Let’s save her first, and then you can decide if you want to jump out of a plane. Come on, let’s go sit down,” he muttered.

My body was brimming with tension, but I relented.

His hand patted my back. “We’re going to find her.”

I offered only a terse nod, then turned to wash the blood off my hands and knuckles. My reflection in what was left of the shattered mirror promised an equally broken future if I didn’t find her.

Dante’s gaze met mine in the reflection. “Hungry?”

“No.”

He turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. “Don’t break any more mirrors. That’s seven years of bad luck,” he drawled, flashing me a quick grin. Except the shadows lingering in his expression told me the truth: he was putting on a brave face for me, but he was worried about Phoenix. It was as if she’d disappeared into thin air.

Shaking my head, I finished washing my hands, then made my way out of the bathroom to join Dante on the couch. He slid a cigarette out of the pack and popped it into his mouth.

“You should really stop smoking,” I remarked tightly. “It’s not good for your lungs. It could kill you.”

He ignored me as he lit the cigarette up, folding his ankle over his knee. “Not before this stress does.”

“Anything on Phoenix?”

His gaze flickered to me. “I’m starting to think she’s in hiding.”

My brows shot up. “Why do you say that?”

“I hacked into her bank account.” He paused to look at me, a dry look hit my face. “She withdrew two million dollars.”

“Cash?” He nodded. “Sounds like she might be on to your plan and decided to take matters into her own hands.”

“Well, she doesn’t know my determination,” he muttered, his cigarette flopping up and down.

“No, she doesn’t.”And God help them both.

“You think it was wise leaving Romero at your place?”

A crease formed between my brows. “What can he possibly do? Take my shit? The man’s days are numbered as it is.”

He rolled his eyes.

“No, but he could insist on taking Reina home if—when we get her back.” My fists clenched. Dante’s eyes lowered, noting the tension in my hands. “He won’t,” he added, quickly. “He seems accepting of you as a son. Plus, through you, Reina remains his daughter.”