crave | 16+

XXII

ELIJAH

I WALK INTO the office, my head held high. Something I was taught from an early age. Never let your opponents be able to read you. I was merely a boy, forced into a corner I knew I couldn't run from, yet I tried to make the best out of it. And here I was, my brothers by my side and a girlfriend I actually enjoyed. I knew this wasn't the ideal dream world other people wanted, but this was a destiny I couldn't run from, something I was bound to by oath and blood, so I appreciate the small things around me.

My eyes catch my older brothers, and he sends a nod my way. He's obviously still butthurt over how I spoke to Zakaria during our fight the other day, but my mind was set and nothing had changed. I wasn't going to share my happiness this time. No, this was mine alone. I wasn't a good man; none of my brothers were, but for her I wanted to try, I wanted to make her laugh, and smile, I wanted to surprise her, make her writhe beneath me from pleasure, make her make me better.

And for that, I wouldn't share her with anyone. I'm a selfish bastard, and despite the goodness Josephine radiated that wouldn't change. I walk deeper into the 20th floor, my eyes searching for the ray of happiness. I feel empty without her soft laughter ringing in my ears. When her face isn't anywhere to be seen in the office, my pulse speeds up, but I quickly tell myself she might be waiting for me in my office. Not to my surprise, I don't see Zakaria's face either. If I know my brother right, he's probably sulking somewhere in a corner, waiting for me to phone him and apologise.

Maybe in another lifetime. I see some of my employees walking toward me with a stack of papers, and I speed up, not in the mood to hear their ideas right now. Some people need their morning coffee before they can function properly, and I simply need Josephine. I turn the corner and open the door to my office, quickly closing the door behind me. My employees knew better than to walk in on a closed door – after all, Josephine had been a victim of it the last time she barged in without knocking.

I slump down in my chair, turning it so I am facing the view of New York City. I grab my phone from my jacket and speed dial Josephine's number, not wanting to rummage through my contacts. I press the 'call' button, and allow my leg to bounce impatiently as I wait for her to pick up. On the fourth ring, the phone hangs up. A frown forms on my face. It's not like her to not show up on time, and it certainly isn't her to hang up when I call her. I know how important she'd taken the promotion; I was with her right after it happened as she'd broken down in the bathroom from being overwhelmed and then the former COO being a pain in her ass.

Still, something was wrong. Worry settled in the pit of my stomach. I decided to distract myself with some mails and some phone calls, not wanting to imagine the worst case scenario just yet. After what feels like an eternity, I peer down at my watch to see only forty-five minutes have passed. I sigh, and stand up from my desk buttoning my jacket. I stride toward my office door, and walk down the hallway. The employees who tried to pin me down earlier catch my eyeline again, but the look on my face must be telling them to stay away, because they don't even look like they want me to run over their ideas with them.

Malik is also nowhere to be seen, but I don't need him. He can be mad at me too, if that's what he wishes. That's what I love about doing and being who I am and what I do. People can have opinions, people can hate me, and still I don't need them, and won't rely on them. Instead I call Aaron as I descend from the 20th floor, toward the parking cellar. He picks up on the first ring.

"Yes?" he asks.

"Where's Ares?" I question fiddling with my car key. It's the one for the Aston Martin.

Silence from the other end. "I thought he was with you," Aaron replies in a tone I don't like the slightest bit. Something is definitely wrong. Zakaria and Ares being gone at the same time is never good. Those two have been a pain in my ass ever since we were small, but this time I sense it's different, something that'll have me putting a bullet between some fuckers eyes.

"When was the last time you saw him?" I ask, walking toward the Aston Martin. I unlock it, and take a seat in the car. It's barely seconds before I'm driving out of the parking cellar, Aaron on speaker.

"Last night. He left the house with Zakaria."

I curse under my breath, and speed up, trying my best to avoid crashing into someone. I'm met with traffic almost halfway toward Josephine's apartment. I punch the steering wheel, letting out a string of curse words out, once again. This can't be good. Something tells me, Zakaria and Ares' absence along with Josephines' all has something to do with me challenging my little brother.

"Boss?" Aaron's voice breaks me out of my trance and I hum in response, my mind spiralling. There's no way he's taken her. No way...

"I'm on my way to Josephine's flat as we speak," I say, my voice harder than I'd intended to.

"She wasn't in the office," Aaron says matter-of-factly. No she wasn't in the fucking office. "Do you want me to call Malik?" he asks.

Aaron is a good bodyguard, and a good soldier. I'm glad I hired him when I did, not so glad he came in a package deal, though. I shake my head and then scoff when I remember he can't see me.

"No," I say. "I'll call him. You call Garcia." Another round of silence follows.

"Elijah–" Aaron starts, but I cut him off.

"That's an order, Wyatt. Call Garcia. I don't have a good feeling about this, and if I'm right, I'll need him on my side, before Zakaria gets to him."

"Are you sure you want to involve them?" he asks. His voice is not as strong and harsh as I remember it to be.

"You're out of line, soldier. Call Garcia, or a bullet will be placed between your eyes," I spit. Involving Garica was the last thing on my list, only because of the favour I'd owe him, but there was no way this was good. Normally I tried to stay as far away from the Cosa Nostra as possible. Cain Garcia and I were friendly, not friends. But I knew him – I'd known him for a long time. Everyone in New York did, considering he reigned the entire empire. If anyone knew what was going on, it was him. Nothing ever happened in the game, without the gamemaster being alert.

Aaron hung up the phone, with no further words said, and I was glad he'd done so. I was spiralling, out of control. I knew Aaron was loyal, and that he would take a bullet for me, but that didn't calm me. I tried Josephine again, but this time I was met with her voicemail. Hey, it's Josie. I can't come to the phone right now but leave a message and I'll return to you when I can...I think that's what I'm meant to say. Anyway, bye!

Her voice makes the sides of my lips pull up in a grin but for all the wrong reasons, like I'm mourning her, like I'll never get to see her again. I sigh at the traffic, and decide to hit the gas, meddling my way through it. I'm met with honks and drivers flipping me off, but only the devil knew how little of a care I gave right now. Within minutes I'm parked outside Josephine's apartment complex. I nearly wrench the door off the Aston Martin and speed walk toward the intercom. I try and try, but to no surprise, no one answers.

The lack of response only clarifies what I was dreading the most. Josephine is gone, and Zakaria definitely has a finger, if not his entire arm, involved in it. My brain on overdrive, I find Garcia's number in my phone and decide to call him myself, despite asking Aaron to do it.

He picks up on the third ring. "Christ," he says into the phone. I can hear the grin in his voice.

"I need your help."

"I've been expecting you," Garcia says. 

. . . 
i love writing shit that has ppl
at the edge of their seats, it's
so exciting LMAO