𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴

33.

Pierre's P.O.V.

"Then fucking search again! Nobody is stopping until my daughter in back home safe and sound."- I said in utmost rage, seeing red. 

Without any further comments, everyone got back to searching and looking. 

I hit the wall hard, over and over again, feeling fucking useless, shitless mortified, sick and worried, my eyes filling with tears that I cannot keep hidden any longer.

2 fucking weeks. 

Whole 14 fucking days without my daughter. 

I am going mad from worry. I don't know sleep, peace, patience, calmness or rationality. I see my baby everywhere I turn - her favourite unicorn slippers, Fluffy, her favourite foods and sweets, her favourite blanket, her tiny clothes - everything. Her room is a trigger to me, yet I find myself coming back to it every single evening, breathing in her sweet jasmine fragrance like my life depends on it. Her pillow is my cuddle buddy, her scrunchie doesn't leave my wrist, her favourite fluffy, plush sheep is an honourable member of my sons' company. 

My sons are distressed, worried about their small sister, their patience is non existing and they leash out on everyone, who doesn't work, just like I do. My wife doesn't rest, she has been massive help, especially when it comes to soothing me and my boys down when we are mere seconds away from blowing the world up. 

I glanced at my hand watch, seeing that it is past midnight. Elizabeth is asleep - I soothed her worried, taut self to sleep just an hour ago. My sons are out, flipping Paris upside down while our men are searching UK and France inside out. 

I went upstairs, all too familiar route. The door opened and dainty, airy, dulcet jasmine scent wrapped around me, making tear trail down my cheek. 

I sat on her bed, patting Biscuit, who doesn't leave her room. He misses her immensely, his black eyes are full of sadness and yearning that his soft whine confirmed. 

"Everyone misses her, buddy. I miss my baby more than anyone."- I said vulnerably, rubbing his back, letting out numb smile as he nuzzled his muzzle into her fluffy blanket, which she always likes to wrap on top of covers when she goes to sleep.

My tired, drained, frustrated, miserable, full of worry and longing self laid on her bed and I took a deep breath, running my hand over my face, feeling so goddamn helpless. 

Memories of places I checked with my boys and our men began replaying through my wrecked mind - docks, avenues, doomed hell holes, empty and neglected hide outs and many other dark corners that make any sane soul shrink in fear. 

I glanced at the picture on my baby's nightstand, my heart swelling with pain and joy as I look at it: her first time in Disney Land with me and her brothers; she looks so happy, so smily, so perfect and breathtaking. 

As I looked at the photograph, I saw a small building on the background: it is nice outside, but inside it is a horror house. 

"Merde."- I muttered in realisation, dashing out of my angel's room, rushing down the stairs, dialling Ares on my way. 

"Himmelton's street, the deepest suburbs of Paris. 2 hours of car ride. Take Winston and Matthew, I will meet you there."- I told my boy as calmly as I could, taking my guns and bullets from the safe in my study. 

"Got it, papa."- answered my son, his voice full of hope once he grasped why the rush and senses the tingle of positivity in my tone. 

I gave commands to guard my wife outside and inside and got in a black Ferrari, driving off fast, speeding through red lights, ignoring all rules that exist in the world.