I Belong To My Three Forbidden Masters

Chapter 107: Chapter 107

Elena’s pov

"Another," I rasped out.

I tipped it back, letting the amber bourbon burn a trail down my raw throat, but it didn’t do a damn thing to dull the hollow, gnawing ache in my chest. I slammed the crystal tumbler back down onto the sweating coaster.

The bartender didn’t argue. He glanced at the thick stack of hundred-dollar bills resting on the counter beside my handbag, picked up the bottle, and poured another heavy double.

I had the money. I had Darius’s settlement account, my private offshore cards, and enough cash to buy a fresh start in any corner of the world.

But standing in my empty penthouse apartment earlier this evening, looking out over the city lights, the wealth felt like ash in my mouth.

I had walked away from my marriage but walking away didn’t mean you would feel less guilty. My world had literally reached rock bottom since I left the house.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lysander’s face. I saw my sweet, quiet boy, the one I had promised to protect when his father died standing in the shadow of Darius’s cruelty, shrinking into himself, hiding behind his golden hair.

I had stayed silent for years because I was afraid of losing my comfort, afraid of facing the world alone. And in doing so, I had let my husband and stepbrother devour him alive.

I have to find him, the thought ran in a desperate, endless loop through my hazy mind. I have to find my baby boy. I’ll beg on my knees. I’ll pay whatever he wants. I just need him to hear me say I’m sorry.

I pulled the fresh glass toward me, my fingers trembling so much the liquor sloshed over the rim.

"Did you hear the news about that boy who was caught on the livestream?" a low voice murmured from the leather booth directly behind my stool.

I paid no attention, staring blankly at the reflection of the neon bar sign floating in my drink.

"Yeah, man," a second voice replied, followed by the clink of two beer bottles meeting. "Unbelievable. What a waste of talent. The kid had so much promise according to what I heard. But having such a scandal is bad, the school has been deliberating on his expulsion."

"That’s what happens when you get involved with online pornography." the first man sighed, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table. "You sign that kind of contract, you don’t get a life anymore. It’s a pity, really. Lysander was one of the purest souls in the school."

My hand froze over my glass. The heavy, warm fog of the alcohol evaporated instantly, replaced by an icy spike of pure adrenaline that made my heart hammer violently against my ribs.

Lysander? My Lysander?

I turned around slowly on my swivel stool, my eyes wide, clutching the edge of the bar top until my knuckles turned stark white.

"What... what did you just say?" I rasped out, my voice shaking so hard the two boys topped talking and looked up at me in surprise.

The boy on the left was on a a scruffy guy in a denim jacket, he frowned slightly, setting his beer bottle down. "Excuse me, lady?"

I slid off the bar stool, my legs wobbly from the bourbon, but I forced myself forward until I was standing right beside their booth.

"Lysander," I breathed, my hands trembling as I leaned over their table. "You said Lysander. Did you say Lysander?!"

The two exchanged an uneasy, wary glance. The second guy, wearing a black beanie, leaned back into the leather cushion. "Yeah... Lysander from the fine arts department. Why? Do you know him?"

"I’m his mother," I sobbed out, the words bursting out of my chest before I could stop them. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the lights of the bar into streaks of gold. "Please. Please, tell me what you were talking about! Where is he?! Is he okay?!"

The scruffy guy’s expression softened slightly, though he still looked deeply uncomfortable. "Look, ma’am, we don’t know him personally. We just saw him a few hours ago."

"Saw him?" I gasped, reaching out to grab his sleeve. "Where?! Where did you see my son?!"

"We saw him near a club in the upper district," the guy in the beanie explained, "You know, the rich side of town."

He gestured vaguely toward the northern end of the city.

"He was with a man."

I immediately looked at him. "A man? Describe him."

The guy scratched his jaw, thinking. "Tall. Really tall. Broad shoulders. He looked like he could break someone in half without even trying. He was wearing this expensive-looking coat."

He paused, then added, "And he had an expensive watch. I couldn’t miss it. It flashed under the club lights every time he moved."

My stomach tightened.

"What else?"

"That’s about it. But the way he acted around him..." He shook his head. "It was strange. He kept a hand at his back, guiding him toward this flashy car. Like he was protecting him."

He frowned.

"I don’t know who he was, but he definitely wasn’t ordinary."

A cold, vivid memory flashed through my mind.

The day the tall, imposing man with piercing eyes who had approached my table, radiating a quiet, terrifying authority that made my blood run cold. The man who had looked at me with contempt and told me that Lysander would soon be far beyond Darius’s reach.

Drake Balthazar.

"The cathedral..." I whispered, my chest heaving as I looked at the two men. "Where... where did the car go? Do you know where that road leads?!"

"Ma’am, that private mountain road only goes one place," the scruffy man said, shaking his head grimly. "Up to the estate on the north ridge. But you can’t just go up there. The perimeter is guarded by heavy guards. Nobody gets through those gates without an invitation. Trust me, we have tried.""

I didn’t hear the rest of his warning.

I spun around on my heel, grabbing my heavy handbag off the bar counter without even looking at my change or the half-full glass of bourbon.

"Hey! Lady, wait!" the bartender called out.

I ignored him completely. I burst through the lounge and threw open the front doors, stepping out into the cool, damp night air.

My heels clicked frantically against the wet pavement as I ran down the sidewalk toward the taxi stand at the corner. My breath came in ragged, desperate hitches, cold wind tearing through my hair, but for the first time in months, the heavy darkness in my mind was gone.

He was within my reach.

I flagged down a yellow cab pulling up to the curb, yanking the door open and throwing myself into the back seat before the car had even come to a complete stop.

"Where to, ma’am?" the driver asked, looking back at me through the rearview mirror.

"The north ridge," I gasped, wiping the wet tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand, "Don’t stop for anything."

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