Steve

Four days.

Four days since Liv disappeared.

Four days of waiting, hoping, and second-guessing every decision I've made, every mistake I've ever let slide. I should've noticed something, should've seen the signs. But now, all I have left are the empty rooms in the flat and the silence that fills the spaces where Liv used to be.

I'm sitting in the kitchen, half-listening to Chloe as she paces back and forth. The worry etched into her face is so familiar it makes my chest tighten. We both know that whatever's happened, we can't fix it alone. But neither of us knows how to fix it, either.

Chloe's been here for hours now, ever since I called her last night—pacing, making phone calls, running through lists of places we could search. But all I can think about is Alice, and how, four days after Liv went missing, it's like I'm reliving her death all over again.

I stare at my coffee cup, watching the steam rise from the surface, but my mind is elsewhere. The memory hits me hard, like a wave pulling me under, and I feel myself drowning in it.

I remember it so clearly. The sterile hospital room. The buzz of machines. The constant beeping of the heart monitor that no one dared to look at, like if we ignored it long enough, maybe it wouldn't be real. But we couldn't avoid it. I couldn't avoid it.

Alice had been so frail in those final days. Her face pale, her voice barely a whisper. I remember holding her hand like it was the last thing I could do for her, the last thread that connected us. I remember trying to hold it together, trying to be strong for her, for Liv. I remember the way she looked at me, those eyes full of love, full of fear—fear for herself, for me, and most of all, for Liv.

"Steve..." Alice had said, her voice so weak, but I could hear the urgency in it. "Look after her. Please. I don't know if I'll make it, but... look after Liv."

I'd nodded, so damn sure of myself, of the promise I was making. 

But how could I have known how hard it would be? 

How could I have known that keeping that promise would tear me apart?

I shake my head to push the memory away, but it's like it's carved into my soul. 

I promised Alice I'd protect Liv. 

But now here I am failing Liv yet again.

"Steve?" Chloe's Henley's voice cuts through the fog in my brain, bringing me back to the present.  She was a kind woman, with sapphire blue eyes, and copper hair, with freckles on her cheek and my word, she looked so much like Alice. "What's going on? You've been quiet for the past hour. What do we do next? I think... I think we need to bring in some professionals. Maybe a private investigator. Something."

Her voice is calm, but I can hear the cracks in it—the worry, the frustration. She's scared too. We all are.

I don't look at her immediately. My eyes are still fixed on that cup of coffee, now cold, as I replay Alice's last words in my head. *Look after her.*

I want to scream at myself. *I am!* But it's not enough, is it? It never will be enough. If I had been enough, Liv wouldn't have run. She wouldn't have felt like she had to leave us. I should've seen the signs. I should've known that something was wrong, something was off. But I didn't. And now...

"I'm scared, Chloe," I whisper, the words coming out raw, like they've been sitting in my chest for days.

She stops pacing, and I can hear the shift in the air—how the words hit her. I finally look at her, and there's a vulnerability in her eyes that mirrors what I feel. She's not just worried about Liv. She's worried about me too. I know it, and I hate it. She's already lost so much. I've already lost so much.

"I'm scared too," she says softly, coming to sit beside me. Her hand rests on mine, and for the first time in days, I don't feel completely alone. "But we'll find her. We'll figure this out, Steve. Liv's strong. She's smart. She's not gone forever."

I nod, but the weight of everything presses in harder. How many times have I promised to protect her? How many times have I sworn to be there for her, no matter what? And now, with Alice gone, there's no one to remind me that I'm still capable of keeping that promise.

"Alice wanted me to look after her," I say, my voice thick. I feel the tears threatening, but I swallow them back. "I told her I would. I promised. And now... I don't know where she is. I don't know if I can keep that promise anymore."

I can see the conflict on Chloe's face, the sadness, the understanding. 

She knows what it's like to lose someone you love.

She lost Alice. 

They were best friends.

And now she's scared to lose Liv too.

"I know, Steve," she says gently, her thumb brushing across my knuckles in a gesture of comfort. "But we have to trust that we're doing everything we can. You can't carry this alone. None of us can. We're all in this together. And Liv's stronger than you think. She'll come back."

But I can't get rid of the feeling in my gut, the gnawing dread that's been there since the moment Liv disappeared. What if she's not okay?

What if she's out there, alone and scared?

I glance at Chloe, the fear in my eyes undeniable. "What if we're too late?"

Chloe doesn't answer immediately. She just gives my hand a firm squeeze, like she's trying to ground me, to keep me from slipping into that panic.

"We won't be," she says, her voice a quiet reassurance. "We won't be too late. And neither will you. You're doing the best you can. And Liv knows that."

But how could she? How could she possibly know?

The silence between us stretches on, thick and suffocating, until I hear Chloe exhale softly.

"Let's bring in the PI," she says after a moment, breaking the silence. "We need to act now. Before it's too late."

I nod, but the sinking feeling in my chest doesn't let up. Every minute that ticks by feels like a thousand years. I feel helpless, paralyzed by the weight of my own fear and guilt. But Chloe's right. We can't wait. Not anymore.

I stand up, my legs stiff as I push away from the table. "I'll make the call."

Chloe nods, her eyes never leaving mine. "We'll find her, Steve. I know we will."

I hope she's right.

Jonathan

The amber liquid swirls in the glass, catching the dim light from the chandelier above. I take a slow sip, the burn of the whiskey cutting through the haze of my thoughts, and stare out the window. London looks quieter tonight, like the city itself knows something's wrong—like it's holding its breath, waiting for something to break.

The clock on the wall ticks on, every second stretching longer than the one before it. I've been sitting here for hours, thinking, but it's like the more I think, the more I lose track of everything.

I glance down at the small piece of paper that rests just within view, just under the threshold of my front door. It's a note—neatly folded, clearly meant for me to find when I came home.

"Time's running out. Make your move."*

I stare at it for a long time, the words burning into my mind. I know who it's from. And I know what it means. My phone buzzes again, and I don't even need to check to know it's from Damon or Callum. They all know where I am. They're waiting. Waiting for me to fall back into line, to do what's expected. They think I'm going to fix this. That I'm going to keep the two parts of my life from falling apart.

But they don't understand. None of them do. Liv—she's not just some pawn. She's not a part of this world. 

But here I am, stuck in the middle of it all.

I take another sip, the heat in my chest growing. The alcohol's doing nothing but making the guilt and anger rise faster.

I lean back in the chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the gnawing feeling in my gut. It's been too long since I saw Liv—since I heard her voice, since she smiled at me like she still believed in me. That's the thing I've been running from, isn't it? 

The way she's still "my daughter" in all the ways that matter, and yet I've never been the man she needed me to be.

I close my eyes and let my mind drift.

**Flashback**

I'm in a dingy warehouse, the air thick with the stench of smoke and metal. My fingers are stained with something darker than ink—blood, maybe. It's been a long night, a bloody one. But I don't feel the weight of it. Not yet. I'm too busy with the task at hand.

Damon's here, standing at the far side of the room, speaking in low, harsh tones to a man I don't recognize. I know that look in Damon's eyes—that hunger for control, for power. It's the same hunger I've had since I was a kid. Since I first got into this life.

I glance at the table, where a stack of cash sits, ready to be moved. I don't flinch anymore when I see this. I'm used to it—the money, the blood, the power. All of it. The life I've built, the one that's kept me afloat, that's kept me from losing everything.

Except, somewhere in the chaos of it all, I lost my way.

I didn't see it happening at first, but now, sitting here alone in my house, I can't escape the fact that Liv was right there the whole time. Right under my nose. And I pushed her away. I've been too wrapped up in the world that Damon and Callum pulled me into, too wrapped up in my own twisted need for control, for approval. Too afraid of losing everything to walk away.

"You ready for this?" Damon's voice cuts through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present.

I look over at him, and for the first time in a long while, I don't feel the rush of adrenaline. I don't feel the same thrill from this life.

I feel... empty. And scared. Scared of what will happen if I keep walking down this road. If I keep making deals with men like Damon and Callum.

I should've said something. I should've pulled away. I should've—

"Jon," Damon's voice interrupts again. "Are we doing this, or what?"

I nod, the decision already made. I've never been good at saying no. Not to Damon. Not to *anyone* in this world.

But in the back of my mind, something tugs. Something that's been growing inside me for years now. The thought that maybe there's more to life than this.

That maybe, for the first time, I actually want something real. Something that matters. 

And I know where that leads.

*Back to the Present*

I blink, coming back to the present. The silence in the room feels deafening after the flashback, the weight of it all crashing down on me. I see the shadows of my past, the choices I've made, and I see them now, reflected in the face of my daughter. 

Liv doesn't deserve this. She deserves better than me. 

She deserves better than this world.

I sit up straighter, staring at the note again, and the rage builds inside me.

"Make your move."

Damon's message is clear. They're coming for me. And I can't keep running. Not anymore. Not when Liv's out there, scared and alone, hiding from everything I've dragged her into.

I stand, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. I take one last look at the note, the empty glass in my hand, and the familiar weight of responsibility pressing on me like an anvil. The line has been drawn. I can't keep pretending anymore.

I'm a man split in two.

But there's only one thing I know for sure now: I will get Liv back.

Whatever the cost.

And maybe just finally, I'll stop falling to pieces.

Liv

I sit on the edge of the bed in the dimly lit hotel room, the sterile white walls closing in around me. The silence is suffocating, and I can barely hear the faint hum of the air conditioner. My fingers tremble as I scroll through my phone, aimlessly tapping through social media feeds I've long since stopped caring about. It's all noise—people's lives, their complaints, their distractions—but it's not mine.

I was supposed to be forgotten. I was supposed to slip away, disappear from everyone's lives.

But nothing ever goes as planned.

The sound of a breaking news jingle suddenly cuts through the quiet of the room. I look up instinctively, just in time to see the television screen flash to life with a large banner in bold, bright letters.

"**BREAKING NEWS**: Missing Person—Liv Reynolds. Search Underway."

My heart freezes.

I'm staring at my own face, unrecognizable in the worst way, frozen in that same smile I used to wear so effortlessly. The one that made the cameras flash and the world fall at my feet. But now, it's just a face plastered on the screen, a reminder of everything I've run from.

A reminder that I can't outrun myself.

The reporter's voice cuts through the static: "Eighteen-year-old actress and model Liv Reynolds has been missing for four days. The family of the young woman—daughter of renowned multi award winning actor Steve—has been searching for her since she disappeared without a trace from her home in central London. Authorities have now launched a nationwide search..."

The words blur together, but I don't need to hear them to know what's coming next. They're looking for me. They've been looking for me since I walked out that door, but now they've officially made it public. They've launched a campaign on social media—posts, hashtags, even pleas from my friends, my family, my *adoptive father* Steve.

I can already feel the weight of the world crashing down on me. The pressure of it all. The suffocating realization that I've been found out. They won't stop until they find me. They won't stop until they drag me back into the life I've tried to escape.

I spring to my feet, my breath coming too fast, too shallow. Panic claws at my chest, squeezing tight, and suddenly I can't breathe. I can't breathe at all.

I need to leave. 

I need to leave now.

I turn quickly, rushing to the dresser where I've kept a bag packed with the few things I dared to bring. My fingers are shaking, and I fumble through it, grabbing a coat, my wallet, and the cash I withdrew earlier. I can't stay here. 

Not now, not when the world is watching me.

The TV continues to blare in the background, but I barely hear it anymore. The words on the screen flash again, looping through every social media platform like an unending echo.

"Liv Reynolds' last known location was in Reading, but her whereabouts since are unknown. Authorities are advising anyone who may have seen her or have any information to come forward."

The words authorities, anyone who's seen her, come forward... They hit me like a thousand knives in my gut.

I pace the room, back and forth, trying to steady my breathing, but the panic is spreading, like wildfire. I can feel the heat of it rising in my chest, and I know that I'm running out of time.

The door to my hotel room—locked, solid—feels like a prison now. My mind races through a dozen possibilities, each more desperate than the last.

Maybe I can find another place.

Another place to disappear, just like I did before. 

Maybe I can hide out somewhere, out of sight, out of reach.

But where? How?

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I glance down, dreading what I'll see.

A message.

*"Liv, please. We're all worried sick. Where are you? Steve and Jonathan are freaking out. Call me. We need to talk. It's Grace."*

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the knot that tightens in my stomach. My best friend. Grace. She's always been there for me—*they* all have, but how can I explain what's happened? How can I even begin to make them understand that I can't go back to that life? That I can't be who they want me to be anymore?

I have to cut them off. 

I have to cut them all off before they pull me back into the mess I've been running from.

But I can't just disappear forever. Not without a trace.

I take another panicked glance at the TV, where the broadcast has shifted to a close-up of my smiling face, now the face of someone *missing*, someone *lost*.

This isn't how I thought it would be. 

This isn't how I thought I would leave it all behind.

I pull my jacket tighter around my shoulders and push the thought of them—*Steve, Jonathan, Grace*—to the back of my mind. I can't think about them right now. 

Not when I'm running for my life.

I grab my bag and head for the door. 

There's no going back, no way to undo what I've done.

I'll keep running. 

I have to.

I can't be found. 

Not now. 

Not when everything is falling apart.

Jonathan

Later that evening 

I step into the cavernous warehouse, the echo of my boots sharp against the concrete floor. It's colder than I remember, or maybe it's just the dread in my chest making everything feel heavier. Tom and Aaron flank me, their tense posture giving away their anxiety more than they realize. We're deep in enemy territory now, and there's no turning back.

The Cavendish Moore warehouse. The kind of place where deals get made, and lives get lost. I've spent enough time here over the years to know how this game plays out. But tonight? Tonight feels different. Tonight, it's not about business. It's about Liv.

Liv... my daughter, and the reason everything has gone to hell.

I've spent days chasing shadows, trying to figure out where she's gone, and with every hour that ticks by, I know I'm running out of time. The silence around me weighs on me more than the constant threats from Damon, Connor, or Callum. It's the silence that fills the gap where Liv should be. I should be with her, protecting her, keeping her safe. But instead, I'm here, walking into a fight I never planned to get into, doing things I promised I'd never do.

The lights flicker overhead, buzzing like a swarm of angry bees, and I glance at the poster of Liv's face tacked to the wall by the entrance. It's the same one we've plastered all over London, on every news outlet, every social media feed, but nothing seems to help. Every minute without her makes the knot in my stomach twist tighter.

"Jon," Tom says quietly, breaking my focus. "You sure you want to go through with this? Damon won't like it."

I turn to him, eyes cold. "Damon doesn't get to make the calls anymore. I'll handle him when the time comes. I need answers first. If I'm going to get Liv back, I need to know where she is."

We move deeper into the warehouse, the shadows growing thicker, swallowing us whole. Every creak of the metal beams, every distant sound, makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. The feeling of being watched is almost palpable.

A few steps in, and I hear the scuff of boots behind us. I turn, and there's Dante, leaning against a pillar, the sharp edge of a knife glinting in his hand. He's smirking, eyes cold and calculating. His presence alone is enough to make the blood in my veins run cold. Dante's always been a loose cannon—dangerous, unpredictable, the kind of guy who relishes in chaos.

"Well, well," he drawls, pushing off the pillar, his grin widening as he sees me. "Look who finally showed up."

I don't flinch. I've known Dante long enough to understand that he gets off on intimidation. He wants me rattled, but it's not going to work.

"Where is she?" I demand, my voice low, controlled.

Dante chuckles, spinning the knife in his hand. "She's around. I wouldn't worry about her too much. But you?" He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. "You've been a real thorn in our side, Jon."

Tom steps forward, ready to draw, but I put a hand out to stop him. Dante doesn't need more attention than he's already getting.

I take a step closer to Dante, my jaw tight. "If you're here to threaten me, make it quick. Where is she?"

His lips curl into a sick smile. "She'll be gone soon enough. And you'll be left scrambling, just like you always are. You're too late."

The words hit harder than I expect. There's something in Dante's eyes, something that tells me he knows something I don't. A shiver runs through me, but I don't show it. I push the panic down, keeping my voice steady.

"You know what I'm capable of," I growl. "Don't make this any worse than it already is."

Dante laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You think you're in control, Jon? You think you're calling the shots now? Nah. You've already lost."

That's it. His voice, his tone—it cuts through me. I've been *losing* everything, slipping further into this world, and now, it feels like it's slipping through my fingers, too.

Before I even realize what I'm doing, my hand's on my gun. My fingers are around the cold steel, ready to draw. The air feels electric, charged with the threat of violence. My breath hitches in my chest, but I don't let it show. This is who I am now. This is what I've become.

Dante notices. His eyes gleam with amusement, but he doesn't back down. In fact, he steps forward, taunting me.

"Go ahead," he sneers. "Shoot me. You think that's gonna fix everything? You think that's gonna bring your little princess back? She's gone, Jon. You've lost. Again."

I don't think. I just act.

My finger pulls the trigger before I've even fully processed what's happening. The gunshot rings through the air, and Dante stumbles back, his eyes wide, the knife falling from his hand. He crashes to the floor with a sickening thud, his body twitching, and the silence that follows is deafening.

For a moment, everything stops. The world holds its breath.

I stand there, staring at the body in front of me, the smoke still rising from the barrel of the gun in my hand. I feel the weight of what I've just done, but it doesn't hit me—not yet. All I can think about is Liv.

Where the hell is she?

My mind races, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I can hear Tom and Aaron moving behind me, but they're quiet, waiting. I don't know if they're scared of me, or of the situation.

I turn on my heel and march forward, my boots clicking against the concrete floor. I don't stop until I reach the far corner of the warehouse, where I can hear the voices of Connor's men. The air feels heavy, too thick, and I know this is only the beginning.

I'm close. So close.

"Where is she?" I bark, stepping into the dim light, my eyes searching the room. Connor's men freeze when they see me, and the tension in the air thickens.

"You think you're in control, Jon?" Connor's voice slices through the silence, cold and mocking.

I step forward, ignoring the burn in my chest. "Where is she?"

Connor takes a step back, his hand twitching near his waistband. I don't wait for him to reach for a weapon. I'm done waiting.

I raise my gun, eyes never leaving his. "You have until the count of three. Tell me, and we walk out of here. Otherwise..." I let the threat hang in the air.

Connor doesn't speak for a long moment. But finally, he smirks, and it's enough to drive me over the edge.

"Fine," he says, his voice almost too calm. "She's closer than you think, Jon. But you're not gonna get her without a fight."

I don't answer. I don't need to.

I already know that no matter what happens next, I won't stop until she's back in my arms. Even if I have to burn the whole world down to make that happen.

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A/N: And the sixth chapter is here and the drama is heating up my loves - let me know, what do we think? ♥️

Now the big question: are we enjoying the book so far?