TW: s****l assault, trauma
I’m losing grip.
Every damn day without Kat is a slow bleed. She’s out there somewhere, and I can’t find her. Not with all the men I’ve got watching, not with all the money I’ve thrown at rats who swear they’ve seen her. They haven’t. They’re lying. Or she’s better at hiding than I gave her credit for.
She used to be mine. Mine to use, mine to punish. I taught her how to breathe in my world. And now she’s gone—slipped out like a ghost, leaving me with nothing but silence and the echo of her defiance.
I pour another drink. The bottle’s half gone. Boris is barking down my neck about the next shipment. Girls lined up, papers ready, routes clean. He wants me focused. He wants me sharp.
I want Kat.
“You’re slipping,” he said earlier, voice like gravel. “Get your
