Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 78

Arthur and I don’t hesitate. I’m not even sure if I properly set my glass down on the bar before I’m taking off, or if it falls to the floor and shatters behind me. We shove our way through the crowd, ignoring strange looks and murmurs of confusion as we rush toward the door.

At this moment, I don’t care if our identities are recognized and everything goes to shit. Only one thought is on my mind, piercing through every thought.

Miles is missing.

As soon as we jump into the car, Ezra screeches away from the curb. The pouring rain obscures the street, turning the amber street lights blurry and the asphalt shiny as he barrels down the road.

“Do you know where he went?” I ask frantically, gripping the seat in front of me.

Ezra shakes his head, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. Meanwhile, Arthur is silent, his face ashen. He must have ripped off his mask and glasses at some point, or maybe they fell off during our mad dash out of the gallery.

We arrive back at the apartment building after what feels like an eternity, although it’s only a few minutes with how fast Ezra is driving. Cliff and Augustine are standing in the lobby. Cliff’s hat is gone, his silvery hair mussed from running his hands through it, and Augustine is sobbing openly.

“What happened?” Arthur barks, skidding to a halt in front of them.

Cliff wrings his hands. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Arthur,” he says, sounding panicked. “We were playing with Miles in Augustine’s apartment, and I heard noises in the lobby. One of the residents twisted her ankle and I went to help her.”

Augustine hiccups and continues, “I–I… It’s all my fault…”

“Augustine,” I say, trying not to sound too angry as I move toward her, “what happened?”

She scrunches up her face. “I… I got distracted,” she says, shaking her head. “I went to check on the woodstove and forgot he was there. Next thing I knew, twenty minutes had passed, and… and…”

“Miles was already gone when I returned,” Cliff adds.

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Chapter 78

I don’t wait, of course. But Arthur catches up anyway, joining in my search. We scan the playground from high to low, searching everywhere–under the jungle gym, inside the slide, even in tree branches.

“He’s not here!” I call out, turning to Arthur.

Arthur nods, his face grim, and we move on. I’m not sure what drives me in the direction I choose–a mother’s instinct, I suppose. Or maybe just sheer panic is what sets me moving with no real location in mind. Either way, I don’t slow down, not even as I cross the street and Arthur just barely manages to pull me back by my wrist as a car, not seeing me in the rain, speeds by.

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