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FEAR OF LOSS

MASIMO'S POV

Just after I found out Ian had been kidnapped, my heart dropped into an abyss of fear. I wasn’t a man who feared much, but this... this terrified me. I rushed to my office, the cold, clinical glow of the CCTV monitors lighting my face as I feverishly scanned through the footage from every angle of my territory. The tight knot in my stomach grew tighter with every second I didn’t see him. My hands clenched into fists as I clicked through frame after frame, my pulse racing with desperation.

Ian had no training, no knowledge of how to fight or escape. He was a doctor, gentle, intelligent but not built for situations like this. The thought of him out there, vulnerable, at the mercy of some monster, made my blood run cold. My mind flashed with images of him, scared, hurt, crying for help images I couldn’t banish no matter how hard I tried. My teeth ground together. I slammed a fist onto the desk.

“Mika, come here!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the silence.

Mika rushed in, his brow furrowed in concern. “Yes, boss?”

“Call every one of our small clans and get them here now. I want all their men at the main house.”

He blinked in confusion. “Are you sure? They’ll take about a week to get here. That’s a lot of time.”

“I don’t care how long it takes! We need manpower, and if my hunch is correct, it’s Kagar who took Ian. That bastard’s trying to get me out of this business, and we both know what he’s capable of. Ian’s in danger, real danger. Kagar won’t hesitate to torture him or worse, just to send a message. So get moving, Mika.”

Mika’s face hardened with understanding. He knew what was at stake. He quickly began making calls, pulling every string we had.

I stood there, pacing, my mind racing. I could see Ian’s face in my mind’s eye, his soft features twisted in pain, pleading for me to save him. This was all my fault. If I hadn’t dragged him into my world, if I had just let him go, he would have been safe. But no, I was selfish, too attached to the idea of keeping him close, too obsessed to let him live his life in peace.

By the time two days had passed, I had an army of men ready to tear the city apart to find him. Every clan had sent their best, and now they stood waiting for orders, weapons at the ready.

“R, divide them into four teams. You lead two, and I’ll take the other two,” I barked, my voice hard and cold. “We need to find him fast, and I don’t want any distractions. Anyone who gets in your way, kill them without hesitation. Ian is our priority.”

R gave a firm nod, and we moved out. My teams headed north, scouring the areas I knew were frequented by Kagar’s men. Every second felt like an eternity, the anxiety gnawing at my insides. We searched for two days straight, pushing past exhaustion, hunting for any sign of him.

On the third day, my team came across a location that set off every alarm in my head. It looked like nothing at first, just a burnt-out building on the edge of nowhere. But something about it seemed... wrong.

“Boss, we’ve found something,” one of my men called out, holding up a charred piece of clothing. My breath caught in my throat.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice quieter, fear creeping in.

He handed it to me, and I felt a chill run down my spine. The clothes were torn and singed, but I recognized them. They were the same clothes Ian had been wearing the day he was taken. My chest tightened painfully.

“No...” My voice was a whisper, barely audible even to myself. I stared at the fabric, the reality of it crashing down on me. Ian had been here, in this place of ash and ruin. God knows what he had gone through. My heart pounded violently against my ribs as rage and guilt flooded my veins. This was my fault. All of it.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I clenched the fabric in my hand, trying to control the anger bubbling up inside me. “This is my fault,” I muttered under my breath. “If I hadn’t dragged him into this world...”

But there was no time to wallow in self-hate. We needed to keep moving. I wouldn’t rest until I had him safe in my arms again.

We pushed onward, and it wasn’t long before we ran into a group of thugs. They looked like they were ready to cause trouble, but I wasn’t in the mood. I took them out swiftly, my focus entirely on finding Ian. One of them, their leader, I kept alive. He could have information I needed.

I grabbed him by the throat, slamming him against a tree. “Have you seen anything suspicious? Anyone unusual around here? Speak!”

He gasped, eyes wide with terror. “I-I haven’t seen anything! I swear!”

I wasn’t convinced. My grip tightened. “You have two choices. Tell me the truth, or die the slowest, most painful death you can imagine. Now talk.”

His resolve broke immediately. “Okay, okay! There’s something going on in the mountains! I don’t know what, but I saw men, armed men, stationed around a place like they were guarding something... or someone.”

My eyes narrowed. “Good. Now get lost before I change my mind.”

He ran like the devil was chasing him. Good.

I turned to my men. “You heard him. Move out!”

We made our way to the mountains. Every step closer filled me with a strange mixture of hope and dread. Then, we heard something. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, coming toward us. My men raised their guns, and I readied myself for another fight. But when the figure emerged from the trees, my heart stopped.

It was Ian.

He stumbled toward us, his clothes torn and filthy, blood staining his right arm. There was a gash above his eyebrow, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He collapsed before he could take another step, but I caught him before he hit the ground.

“Ian!” I called out, my voice trembling. “Ian, stay with me!”

He was barely conscious, mumbling incoherently. I shouted for some of my men to come with me while the others searched the area. We had to make sure no one else was lurking nearby. If Kagar’s men were here, we needed to know.

“Get him to the nearest hospital, now!” I barked, cradling Ian in my arms. My heart was pounding, relief and terror mingling together. He was alive, but barely.

As we rushed to the hospital, I couldn’t stop thinking about why they had let him go. It didn’t make sense. They could have killed him, used him as leverage. Why release him now, after torturing him like this? Something wasn’t adding up, and I didn’t like it. There had to be more to this, but for now, my only concern was Ian.

When we arrived at the hospital, the doctors quickly assessed his condition. I paced the hallway, my mind racing with possibilities. My men had found the house where he’d been held, but it was empty. Whoever had taken him was long gone. They’d covered their tracks well.

The doctor finally came out, his expression calm. “He’s stable. His injuries are minor, and with rest, he’ll recover fully. You don’t need to worry.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Thank you, doctor.”

I sat by Ian’s bed, watching him sleep. For the first time in years, I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes. I hadn’t cried in decades, but seeing him like this, so fragile, so hurt—it broke something inside me. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to protect him.

I reached out, taking his hand in mine, the rough skin of my palm brushing against his soft, pale fingers. “I’m sorry, Ian,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, my head resting on the edge of his bed, still clutching his hand. When I woke up the next morning, Ian’s eyes were open. For a moment, I felt pure relief. He was awake. He was okay.

But then I saw the confusion in his eyes.

“You’re awake,” I said, forcing a smile. “How do you feel?”

Ian blinked, his brow furrowed. “I... I’m fine, I think. But... why am I here? What happened?”

My heart sank. He didn’t remember.

“You don’t remember anything?” I asked, my voice tight with tension.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing at all. I don’t even know how I got here.”

I felt panic rising in my chest. “Doctor!” I yelled, rushing to the door. “Doctor, get in here!”

The doctor hurried in, his expression alarmed. He checked Ian over quickly and then turned to me. “It’s a memory block,” he explained. “He’s experienced something traumatic, and his brain is protecting him from it. It’s not uncommon after extreme stress.”

“So he might never remember?” I asked, my voice sharp.

“There’s a chance he could, but it’s better if he doesn’t,” the doctor replied. “If he does, it could trigger PTSD. For now, it’s best to let him recover without stress.”

I nodded.