I wake up in a delirious haze. I can't even remember the last time I had slept so well. Being with Daphni again has made everything feel right again. We belonged together and now that we were reunited, it was like the last seven years had never even happened. All that mattered was that she was here, with me, again.

I quickly glance at the clock beside me as it flashes at 6:36 p.m. and my stomach loudly grumbles, alerting me that I need some food. Stretching my arms out, I find the bed empty and cold. Assuming that both Daphni and Shakira are probably downstairs, I force myself out of bed. I feel like a zombie as I splash cold water on my face to wake me up. After we had made love this afternoon, I had promptly passed out, completely depleted.

Heading back into the bedroom to slide back into my clothes, I feel my chest tighten when I glance quickly again at the clock and see the same flashing 6:36 p.m.

I dig into my pants and pull out my phone. It’s 7:40 p.m. Had the power gone out while I had fallen asleep?

With that thought, a growing pit sinks to the bottom of my stomach. If the power had been out, that means the alarm system had also been off.

Daphni.

Where the hell is Daphni?

Panic sets in as I dart out of the room and run down the stairs, calling out Daphni’s name as I race through all the rooms like a madman. As I search the house, I dial her cell, and my stomach fills with dread when I hear her ringtone from the purse on the couch, where she had last left it.

When I land in the kitchen, every one of my fears is confirmed. A shattered vase, with water and roses spilling out, lies on the marble floor. Mixed within the shattered mess are drops of dark red, almost the same color as the crimson red roses. Blood.

By the back door, Shakira softly whines. Her head is resting on the floor beside a pile of bright yellow vomit. Beside her is a bowl of diced-up meat, and as I kneel down to examine the unfamiliar bowl, I see traces of a pill casing and my stomach sinks. I force away the blinding panic and pull out my phone, immediately dialing 911 to report a break-in and kidnapping. As soon as I end the call with a promise the police are on their way, I call Melissa, who says she will be right over. I ask her to call Gabby and Lawrence on her way. I need to focus on remembering everything from the past day. I need to figure out who the hell took her. And then I’m going to kill him.

I want to wake up from this horrible nightmare and find Daphni in my arms. I want to believe this isn’t real. I want this to be a cruel, twisted joke. But as I cradle Shakira’s head in my lap, with nothing but the silence of the empty house and Shakira’s whimpering cries, I know this isn’t a dream. This is reality. Daphni is gone.

Melissa arrives just as the police do. Her normally calm and collected demeanor is gone: she is in full panic mode. When she runs in and finds me on the floor with Shakira, she drops down beside me. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she turns me to look at her.

“Promise everything will be okay, Roman? Promise me she’ll be okay.”

The desperation in her voice mirrors what I feel inside. I need to keep believing that Daphni is safe, and that she will be coming home. I owe that much to her and I can’t abandon hope now.

I nod and pull Melissa in for a hug, needing her strength as much as she needs mine right now.

An officer walks over to us, crumbled on the floor with Shakira's head still resting in my lap. "Sir, is your dog okay?” she asks, concerned.

I shake my head. “Whoever took Daphni poisoned her. Probably to keep her distracted, but there really was no need. She wouldn’t harm a fly.”

The officer pulls a phone from her back pocket. “Listen, my brother is a vet technician. I’ll take your dog to him, see if he can help.”

I feel a weight leave my shoulders at her words. “Thank you so much. Please, whatever he can do. I’m so grateful.”

She nods and checks in with her supervisor. A moment later she returns. "Can you help carry her to my car outside? My brother can see her right away."

I carefully pull Shakira into my arms and follow the detective outside. After she takes my number, she promises to check in with an update as soon as she can. I press one last kiss to Shakira's temple before watching the detective drive off. While normally I would want to be right by my baby's side, I need to focus all my attention and energy on getting Daphni back safely. The thought of her being harmed sickens me, and I’m so angry at myself for letting someone come into her home and take her while I was sleeping. When we get her back, I promise to spend my whole life making it up to her. I need her back. I can't lose her again.

Once inside, I sit down with the trio of detectives. Melissa perches on the couch next to me as she frantically sends out text messages to Daphni’s friends and contacts, hoping that she is with one of them. It’s a futile task: we both know she didn’t leave this house voluntarily. The shattered vase and the blood on the floor make that abundantly clear.

“You need to go to MacArthur,” I tell them. “He’s the fucking bastard that did this.”

“MacArthur?” one of the detectives asks as he looks at his colleagues.

“She left his label this morning, and he was angry with her. She has a lot of dirt on him and he’ll see her as a threat. Go arrest him instead of wasting your time here!” I shout, unable to contain my frustration in my voice.

“Sir, please calm down,” one of the detectives says, holding up his hand. “We need more information before we can arbitrarily arrest someone.”

“He assaulted her seven years ago and then when she quit his label, he threatened her. She’s a liability to him. It’s fucking obvious it’s him, why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

The detectives share a look between themselves and I feel my blood pressure rising. As if she can sense I am about to explode, Melissa places her hand on my arm.

“We’re going to find her,” she says, her voice soft.

I force myself to take a long breath as I drop my head into my hands. I’m so fucking scared. And I’m moments away from lunging at these idiots and telling them to stop wasting their time here, and instead go out and get MacArthur. Get the bastard who did this and bring Daphni back home safely.

Just then, the front door bursts open and Gabby and Liam rush into the living room.

“What happened?” Gabby asks, her eyes already puffy with tears.

Liam looks at the grim expressions on the detectives face and stiffens. He knows it doesn’t look good and he slides his arm over Gabby’s shoulders, pulling her closer toward him.

I push off the couch and thrust a hand through my hair in frustration. “Someone took Daphni and as I’m trying to explain to these detectives, I know it’s MacArthur. But they won’t arrest him.”

“Sir, we have no leads. We need to thoroughly investigate —”

“So go fucking investigate!” I shout, cutting him off.

Liam walks toward me and places a firm hand on my arm. “Come on, mate, let’s go outside for some air.”

Frustrated, I follow him, leaving Melissa and Gabby with the detectives.

Once outside, I pace the length of the tiled patio, my mind racing. How could I have let this happen? How could I have let someone come here and hurt her?

As if he can sense the fears rolling inside me, Liam places a reassuring hand on my arm. “Mate, you got to calm down. You won’t be able to help get Daphni back if your head isn’t on straight.”

I exhale a long breath and stop my pacing. He’s right. I need to get my shit together.

“I can’t fucking lose her.”

“You won’t. But you can’t go rogue on this either. And the cops won’t listen to a raving madman. You need to calm the fuck down, go explain to them what you know and make them to take you seriously.”

I know that he’s right. With one more deep breath, I turn and give him a curt nod. “I’m good.”

We walk back inside and I take a seat next to Melissa on the couch. “It has to be MacArthur,” I tell them. “I know he’s involved.”

The detective shakes his head and Melissa covers my hand in hers. “We sent a unit to find him. Apparently he hasn’t left the building all day and has multiple people who have alibied him. We strongly believe this abduction is related to the threatening letters Miss Monroe had been receiving and we have no evidence that Mr. MacArthur was behind those. Up until today, he had no motive to hurt Miss Monroe. In fact, it was the opposite: she was his investment so it would be wise for him to keep her safe, not harm her.”

I feel my stomach sink and the room around me tilt on its axis. No. It had to be him.

Sensing my panic, Melissa squeezes my hand. “We’re going to find out who did this.”

I rake a hand through my hair. “I was so sure.”

“I know,” Melissa says, her voice soft and calming despite the panic I know she has tearing through her. “But it wasn’t him.”

“Then who the hell took her?” I say, not asking anyone in particular. Because none of us know.

And that’s the most infuriating part of all this. Because I can’t figure out who the hell is behind all this. The final piece of the puzzle.