I'm In Love With My Bestfriend's Billionaire Fiance!
Chapter 93: Where Is Kira?

Chapter 93: Where Is Kira?

(Jace’s POV)

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"I think Kira is in trouble!"

Casey’s voice hit me like a punch to the chest—fast, breathless, jagged. The kind of voice people use when something is terribly, undeniably wrong.

Gripping my phone with white-knuckled intensity, I pressed it harder to my ear, as if that could somehow anchor me to reality. But her words echoed—loud and looping—slamming against the walls of my mind.

Kira.

Trouble.

Maven.

Just what I needed when I was on my way to find the fucking bastard!

The interior of the SUV felt suddenly colder, and it was not because of the AC blasting cold air in. My eyes flicked toward the window, but the glass was fogged with condensation, blurred and distorted—like my thoughts.

That didn’t make any sense. Kira wasn’t the kind of person to end up in trouble without dragging it into the light, kicking and screaming. She hated silence. If something was wrong, she’d have said something. Or texted.

Blackmail? My brain recoiled at the word. That only worked when the blackmailed had something to hide—and something to lose. Money. Power. Secrets. But what did Maven know? What leverage could he possibly have over her

And more importantly—why now? I thought I had the time to save her and save the rest of us from Maven, but the asshole was upping the stakes. How the hell could I keep up with such conditions?

"Jace!"

Casey’s voice cracked through again, raw and panicked. "Say something! What do we do?"

She sounded terrified—and if Casey was terrified, I knew that it was serious. This woman once stared down a drunk former client with a champagne flute and the threat of a lawsuit.

Now she sounded like she was hanging off the edge of a cliff.

I finally found my voice, though it emerged slower than I intended. "You’re sure?"

"I’ve called her, Jace," she snapped. "Texted. Emailed. Not just me, Liam has done the same countless times! She hasn’t answered a thing. She hasn’t even answered her secretary, she never goes silent like this. Not with me. And definitely not with her job!"

I rubbed a hand down my face, trying to process everything going on.

"Her assistant said she hasn’t shown up to work since yesterday," Casey added, and I could hear the edge of something darker in her voice—guilt, maybe. "That’s not like her. And don’t tell me it’s a coincidence, not with Maven hovering around like a vulture."

Dread curled at the base of my spine like smoke.

Casey was right. None of this felt random. And if Maven had really gotten to Kira, then this wasn’t just a warning shot—it was the first move in a much bigger game. One we barely understood.

"I don’t know what he’s making her do," she whispered, "but I know it’s not good."

I shifted in my seat slowly, as if the sudden movement would shatter the thin layer of normalcy still clinging to the confined space of the SUV. The hum of the air conditioning suddenly felt too loud. My skin prickled.

I swallowed hard, staring out the tinted window of my SUV as the city blurred past like streaks of gray and gold. My stomach was a knot of nerves, coiled tighter with every mile we drove. The morning traffic crawled like a dying beast, but Ethan—my personal security and the human equivalent of a bulldozer in a tailored suit—was unfazed, weaving us through the chaos with steady precision.

He had one hand on the wheel and the other tucked into the side of his jacket, fingers adjusting the tiny earbud as he spoke in a low, clipped tone. He was on the phone with an old buddy from the precinct—one of those useful ex-cop types who still had access to the kind of information that didn’t show up in Google searches. The mission? Track down Maven. An address. A location. A single thread we could pull before this entire thing unraveled.

I didn’t interrupt him, not at first. But the silence between Casey and me on the other end of the line was heavy, thick with unsaid things. I finally broke it with a long inhale.

"I know you’ve tried calling Kira yourself," I said gently. "Or maybe have you tried calling from another number? Just to ensure she’s not ignoring you, she’s just... dodging the usual lines."

There was a pause. A painful one.

"You might be right," Casey said, her voice hushed and shaky. "She and I... we had a sort of falling out last night. I’m scared her disappearance is because of that. Do you think it could be?"

I frowned, glancing toward Ethan. "Wait—what do you mean you had a fight? When? You and I were together all of last night."

"At the hospital," she said quickly, a little breathless. "When I went in for the examination. She called me. But—none of that matters now, Jace. What should I do? Should I go to her apartment? Should I call the police?"

"No," I said sharply, sitting up straighter. "No police. Not yet."

She was quiet.

"I know you’re scared," I added, softer now. "Hell, I am too. But if we bring the police into this, the press will be sniffing around in seconds. Do you know what it’ll look like if the media gets wind that Kira’s gone AWOL just days after her rehearsal dinner? It’ll explode into something none of us can control."

"I know..." she murmured. "But I don’t care about that right now. I’d trade the headlines for a sign that she’s okay."

"We’ll find her," I promised.

"How?" she whispered. "You and Ethan are hunting for Maven, and I’m stuck in the office right now, due to some fucking things I have to do. Like a sitting duck. I’d head to Paragon Park right now, but I won’t get there for at least another hour."

"Shit..." I muttered, raking a hand through my hair. I hated this helplessness. "Okay. Is there anyone you can call who might check in on her? Someone who wouldn’t raise red flags?"

There was a pause. Then, a spark.

"Her housekeeper. Janet! She’s been with Kira for years. I still have her number somewhere—she helped me pass a message to Kira once. I’ll find it in my contacts."

"Good. That’s our best shot right now. Just make sure you don’t say too much to her. We don’t want to blow this up bigger than it already is."

There was a beat of silence on her end. Then a whisper:

"I’m scared, Jace. Really scared."

My chest clenched.

"I can’t stop thinking about all the horrible things Maven might have her doing," she said, her voice barely holding together. "And this chill—it’s like it’s crawling up my spine and won’t leave. I feel like I’m being watched."

I pressed my thumb and forefinger against my brow, trying to hold the pieces of this together.

"You’re not alone," I told her. "We’re going to find her, Casey. I swear to you—we’ll bring her back. Whatever this is... it ends with Maven. It ends today!"

Outside, the city roared on, blissfully unaware that something dark was unfolding in its quiet corners. And somewhere in that chaos, Kira was out there.

But for how much longer... neither of us knew.

"I’m just scared," Casey said with a shaky voice.

"Yeah... I get you." My voice sounded distant like it didn’t belong to me. My fingers tightened around the phone as I stared out the window, the city outside smeared in morning light and shadows that seemed far more menacing than they should have. Nothing felt real anymore—not the hum of the engine, not the cars passing by, not even the steady rhythm of my own heartbeat.

"Casey," I said, my voice was low and certain, "listen to me. Find Janet’s number. Call her. Have her go over to Kira’s house. That’s our first step. Only then can we figure out what we’re really dealing with. Ethan and I will stay on Maven. If she’s with him, we will find her. I promise."

She exhaled shakily. "Okay... I’ll talk to you later."

The line went dead with a soft click, and the weight of silence filled the car like a thick fog. I lowered the phone slowly, letting it rest in my lap for a second before slipping it into the inside pocket of my hoodie. My hand lingered there for a beat, fingers brushing the lining as if holding onto the last words I’d just heard.

Next to me, Ethan raised a finger without looking away from the road. "We’ve got something."

My gaze snapped to him, my chest tightening with anticipation. "What is it?"

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took the next turn sharply, the tires groaning against the asphalt as we merged off the freeway and into a narrower side road. He adjusted the earpiece with one hand, speaking into the mic clipped near his collar in a calm, low voice. Then he turned his eyes to the rearview mirror, catching my reflection in a quick, steady glance.

"The pictures I took of Maven—when we caught him on the security cam footage meeting Ramon at Eazy Bacon, I sent them to my contact at the station as I said last night. They ran facial recognition through the police database." He paused. "And we got a hit."

My pulse spiked. "Seriously? Who is he?"

"Guy’s name is Vic Marino," Ethan said, flicking on the turn signal with a practiced gesture. "Does that ring any bells?"

I frowned, trying to sift through the hundreds of names I’d come across in this industry, in our social circles, in all the wedding prep chaos. But no. Nothing.

"No," I admitted. "Never heard of him."

Ethan nodded as if he’d expected that. "That’s what I figured. My guy says Marino’s been off the radar for years. Minor charges—fraud, falsified documents, some extortion—but nothing ever stuck. Slippery as hell. Looks like he vanished for a while, then started popping back up recently... under new aliases. I don’t know for sure though, if Maven is just the latest one."

I let that settle in my chest. Fraud. Extortion. And now—what? Blackmail? Kidnapping?

"What else did the cop give you?" I asked, leaning forward slightly.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Ethan’s face—the kind of smile that promised something dangerous was about to unfold.

"An address," he said. "And if traffic holds, we’ll be there in five."

I felt a jolt of adrenaline light up my system like electricity. After days of running in circles, dead ends, and helpless worry, we finally had something solid. A name. A location. A face we could corner.

My fear twisted into something sharper. Rage. Determination.

I met Ethan’s eyes in the mirror, my voice a low growl. "Then let’s go catch this motherfucker."

He grinned, his knuckles tightening slightly on the wheel as he pressed the gas.

Outside the windows, the buildings began to change—sleeker towers giving way to older structures, less polished streets, and a grittier pulse to the air. We were leaving behind the comfort of routine and heading straight into whatever shadows Maven—or Vic Marino—was hiding in.

And I was ready to drag him out by the throat.