Marvis POV
I'd gone soft.
That was the only explanation.
Because ever since I kicked Melody out of the warehouse, I hadn't been able to think straight. Not at work. Not at meetings. Not even when people were bleeding in front of me.
And now Darius was dead.
By her hand.
I should've been proud. The bastard deserved worse. But all I felt was rage pure and cold. Because she did it without me. Without telling me. Without trusting me.
And now she was gone.
Like she never existed.
"Boss."
I turned. Nico stood in the doorway, hesitant. His eyes flicked to my clenched fist. My phone screen was cracked again. I had smashed it against the desk five minutes ago.
"She's not at her friend's place," he said. "No record of a lease renewal. And she hasn't used any of her cards in four days."
"Then find her," I snapped.
He nodded once, then disappeared.
I stared out the window of my office, watching the city shift into night.
Why did this feel like before?
Like I had lost her already.
I told myself it didn't matter. That she made her choice when she shut me out. But I kept seeing her face the day I kicked her out…tired, bruised, but proud. Holding back tears.
I had hurt her.
And now, I didn't even know if she had a roof over her head.
Later that night, Nico came back. Quiet. Grim.
"She's been sleeping in her car, Boss. Behind that 24-hour gym on 19th Street."
I froze.
"You're sure?"
He nodded. "We got a glimpse. She leaves in the morning. Comes back around two a.m. Same spot. Doesn't let anyone see her."
My jaw clenched.
That stubborn, reckless girl.
She would rather freeze in a car than knock on my door.
And yet… I had thrown her out like trash.
"Leave her be," I said.
"But…"
"I said leave her."
But I didn't.
An hour later, I was parked a block away, watching her car from the shadows. She was in there. Curled up in the backseat. Arms wrapped around herself. Probably no idea someone had taken her photo. Or that someone else might be following her. It was dark. But I still saw her wipe her face with her sleeve.
She was crying.
My chest tightened. I had seen torture victims look stronger than she did now. And somehow… I had helped break her.
I didn't move. Didn't go to her.
I just sat in the car, hands trembling slightly, and whispered to the night:
"I'm sorry."