Chapter 5

DOMINIC'S POV

I tapped my fingers impatiently against the steering wheel of my Bentley, checking my watch for the third time in as many minutes. The digital display read 2:45 PM—I was fifteen minutes early for my meeting with the Andrews family, but in my world, being early meant being on time. Being on time meant you were already late.

Anticipation coursed through my veins as I thought of the woman who would soon be mine. Something about her photograph had awakened a instinct response in me—like a wolf recognizing his mate through instinct alone. The feeling was foreign, unsettling, yet I couldn't deny the pull.

"Sir," my beta, Marcus, said from the passenger seat, "should we approach now or wait until three?"

I growled low in my throat, my decision made. "Now. I've waited long enough."

We strode up the driveway to the modest house, my men flanking me as always. Unlike yesterday, I knocked—a courtesy extended only because I was collecting something precious today.

The door swung open immediately, revealing Jimmy Andrews' ashen face. His eyes darted nervously behind me, scanning the yard.

"Alpha Dominic," he stammered, bowing his head in submission. "Please, come in."

I stepped inside, my senses immediately alert. Something was wrong. The air felt charged with panic and fear—more so than it should, even considering the circumstances.

"Where is she?" I demanded without preamble.

Jimmy exchanged a frantic look with his wife, who stood trembling by the staircase. "She... she's gone," he whispered.

The words hit me like a physical blow. My vision turned crimson at the edges, rage surging through me with such intensity that the nearby lamp shattered without my even touching it—my power radiating outward with my fury.

"What do you mean, gone?" I snarled, closing the distance between us in a single stride, grabbing Jimmy by the throat and lifting him off the ground. "Where is Antalya?"

"We don't know!" his wife sobbed, falling to her knees. "She tricked us! Said she accepted the arrangement, asked to go to the salon before meeting you, then disappeared!"

I threw Jimmy across the room, his body crashing into the dining table with a sickening crunch. "You let her escape? After I made myself perfectly clear yesterday?"

"Please," Jimmy wheezed, struggling to stand. "We've been looking everywhere. She's our daughter—we want her back as much as you do!"

"I doubt that very much," I said coldly, nodding to Marcus. "Lock the doors. Search the house. Every inch."

As my men dispersed, I turned my attention back to the cowering couple. Something wasn't adding up. The girl in the photograph had looked fierce, yes, but to run from me? From a Blackwood? The audacity was staggering.

"When exactly did she disappear?" I demanded.

"This morning," Jimmy's wife answered, her voice shaking. "Around ten. We've called everyone we know—"

"And you're only telling me now?" I roared, my control slipping further. "Six hours later? Do you take me for a fool?"

Jimmy hobbled forward, hands raised placatingly. "Alpha Dominic, please. We thought we could find her ourselves, spare everyone the embarrassment—"

"Spare yourselves, you mean," I cut in, advancing on him slowly. "You're hiding her."

"No!" they both shouted in unison.

I grabbed Jimmy by his shirt collar, dragging him to the center of the living room. "Let's try this again. Where is Antalya?"

"We don't know!" he insisted, panic in his eyes.

I struck him across the face, sending him sprawling. "Wrong answer."

For the next hour, I worked methodically, demonstrating exactly what happened to those who dared cross me. Their screams echoed through the house as I pulled the truth from them piece by bloody piece. But the truth, when it finally came, only enraged me further—they genuinely didn't know where she'd gone.

"Please," Jimmy's wife begged, barely conscious now. "She just wanted freedom... can't you understand?"

"Freedom?" I laughed darkly. "She belongs to me. There is no freedom from that."

"She's just a girl," Jimmy whimpered. "Just twenty-one. Let her go."

I leaned down, meeting his terrified gaze. "She's my mate," I growled, the confession escaping before I could stop it. "I felt it the moment I saw her picture. And now you've lost her."

Both their eyes widened at this revelation—as did mine. I hadn't meant to reveal that truth, hadn't fully acknowledged it even to myself until that moment. But there it was, raw and undeniable. The pull I felt wasn't just desire or possessiveness—it was the mate bond beginning to form, even from just seeing her image.

"If she's truly your mate," Jimmy whispered, "then hurting us won't bring her back to you."

I smiled, a cold expression devoid of mercy. "No. But it will ensure you never interfere again."

What followed was necessary—a message to anyone who would dare keep me from what was mine. When it was done, I stood in the center of the bloodied room, rage still bubbling beneath my skin.

"Search the house again," I ordered my men. "Find me something with her scent."

While they combed through the residence, I paced the living room, my mind racing. No one escaped me. No one. Especially not my mate. The very thought that she would run, that she would reject our bond before even meeting me, twisted something dark and dangerous inside my chest.

"Sir," Marcus called from upstairs. "We found something."

I took the stairs two at a time, following him into what was clearly a young woman's bedroom. The space was neat, organized—the room of someone disciplined and intelligent. Framed diplomas hung on one wall, sports trophies on a shelf. This was the room of a fighter, an achiever. My respect for my elusive mate grudgingly increased.

Marcus held out a torn shirt—cotton, soft blue. "It was under the bed."

I snatched it from his hands, bringing it to my nose and inhaling deeply. The scent hit me like a physical force—vanilla, cinnamon, something uniquely female and wild. My wolf howled inside me, recognizing what my human side had only suspected. Mine.

I clutched the fabric tightly, committing every note of her scent to memory. "I want every available man searching. Check the bus station, the airport, every road leading out of town. Contact our people in neighboring territories."

"Yes, Alpha," Marcus nodded. "And if we find her?"

"When you find her," I corrected sharply, "bring her directly to me. Unharmed."

"And if she resists?"

I growled, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. "She won't resist for long."

As my men filed out to begin the search, I remained in her room, studying the space she'd inhabited, learning about the woman who dared defy me. College textbooks on psychology and criminology. A worn copy of "The Art of War" on her nightstand. This was no simpering girl I was hunting—this was a worthy adversary.

"Clever girl," I murmured, picking up a framed photograph of her standing before a frozen lake, hockey stick in hand. Something her parents had failed to mention—she was an athlete. A competitor.

I moved to her closet, breathing in her lingering scent. The connection I felt grew stronger with each passing moment, the bond struggling to form despite the distance between us. I'd never experienced anything like it—this pull, this obsession. It both infuriated and intrigued me.

"Run all you want, little wolf," I whispered into the empty room. "There isn't a place on this earth you can hide from me."

I stormed back downstairs, the shirt still clutched in my fist, and gathered my men in the front yard.

"Listen carefully," I commanded, my voice deadly quiet. "I want every pack member mobilized. Every contact engaged. Every favor called in. Find Antalya Andrews, no matter the cost."

Marcus stepped forward, hesitant. "Sir, with all due respect, one woman—"

"Is worth burning down the world to find," I finished for him, my tone brooking no argument. "If I don't have her in my possession within seventy-two hours, I will personally skin alive anyone who fails me. Is that understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, Alpha" echoed around me.

As they dispersed to begin the hunt, I remained in the driveway, staring at the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. Somewhere out there, my mate was running, believing she could escape me. The thought brought a cold smile to my face.

"No one escapes a Blackwood," I whispered to the gathering darkness. "Especially not my mate."