Where All Paths Lead

Chapter 4

Henrik’s feet dragged and his thoughts ran together in a bleary hum too loud for the stuffy confines of his skull. Whatever trail Simone had left in her ferocious wake had cooled after the clown-masked man had escorted her swiftly from the café, leaving only puzzlement for the police, fascinated intrigue for the public, and dreaded knowing in Henrik. In the dozens of times he’d scoured the videos on social media and tabloid sites, he tried to search for any clue he could gather that might lead him away from the suspicion he did not want to confirm into fact, but there was no doubting that the clown was a man of Leif’s and Kyun’s ilk. If not by the use of a mask when any normal man would not have need to hide his identity, then by the chilled recognition that fell over her aggressive behavior when she took notice of him. Henrik had seen that tense stillness in her only a few times before: in the moments he could now identify when Leif’s intent turned deadly and in Edward Kyun’s car shortly before the chaotic wrestle for the gun. She’d regarded him with that distinct stillness once before, too. He shook his head, his brain sloshing around painfully with the motion as he chased that memory back into the depths.

He dragged his coat from his stiff shoulders and shuffled out of his shoes, leaving a trail as he discarded them from the entryway to the living room before collapsing onto the couch where this disaster had begun. In his desperation to avoid making a mistake, he’d made a worse one and let his ward slip away. It hadn’t been until several minutes after, as he sat on his bedroom floor with his back against the door with the physical manifestation of his need still wet in his palm, that he’d noticed the key’s absence from his neck. Since that terrible realization, he’d been out on the streets searching and calling for her until his throat felt stripped and his legs began to shake. When he saw the videos on social media, all hope in him withered, but he wandered aimlessly to avoid the dread of returning to this empty apartment. He unbuckled his belt and leaned his head back into the couch cushions with a deep sigh.

“Welcome home, asshole.”

He jerked up in a sudden flinch at the shock of the voice even as he knew who that sardonic drawl belonged to at once.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?!” he snarled, on his feet in an instant.

Vidar leaned against the wall leading down the darkened hallway, his posture relaxed in the detached way he became when deeply angered, and Henrik realized then that he knew everything even before his brother spoke with a false nonchalance, “Oh, just thought I’d drop in and see where you’ve been hiding the little bitch. Nice place, by the way.”

Henrik swallowed the sour ash heavy on his tongue and squared his powerful shoulders as he ground out, “You need to leave. Now.”

His younger brother’s smirk was as sharp as his glare and at odds with his casually asked, “Does Camilla know what’s been waiting for you at home at the end of your dates? I always did think it was sort of odd that she never posted any of those stupid cutesy couple pics from your place. I bet it wasn’t for a lack of trying on her part, though. How many excuses did you give your girlfriend before she stopped asking to see your new apartment?”

“Vid,” Henrik growled warningly, ignoring how his fists trembled. This couldn’t be happening. Of all times and all people, it had to be now and him. There would be no end to the punishment with this sly, spiteful man holding this horrid knowledge.

“Or was she in on it?” Vidar grinned. The sleaziness oozing from that smile made Henrik’s stomach twist in anger. “She never struck me as anything but the conventionally annoying clingy type, but maybe she liked having a girl in the bedroom. I have no doubt that Simone eats pussy as good as she sucks dick. For someone who speaks so little, she has a deft tongue, doesn’t she?”