The night was thick with tension, the dark sky smothered by heavy clouds, and the city below already trembling under the storm that was Nicolas Russo.

He stood in the center of his office, the desk overturned, the glass from a shattered decanter glittering like sharp snow across the floor. His knuckles were split open, blood dripping steadily onto the marble, but he didn’t even notice. Rage burned hotter than pain.

The moment he realized you were gone—truly gone, no word, no trace—something inside him snapped.

Christian stood off to the side, watching the clock like his life depended on it. Nico had given him one hour. Sixty minutes to find you before he ripped this city apart brick by brick. And he meant it. He would tear through every home, every building, every soul if he had to.

The streets were already alive with his men, shadows moving under the cover of night, hunting for any hint of you. Cops would be paid off, cameras hacked, alliances leveraged and broken without hesitation. Nothing mattered anymore—only you.

He paced like a caged animal, breathing harshly, his mind a relentless loop of you—your face. Everything.

It didn’t matter why you left.

All that mattered was getting you back.

Because Nicolas Russo didn’t lose. Not in business. Not in the streets. And definitely not when it came to his wife.

And if he had to burn the city to the ground to find you, so be it.