Please Harder, Professor

Chapter 222

Adrian’s POV

We reach the cabin at dawn.

The sky is lightening—that pale grey-blue before sunrise. Three hours of driving, Ayden at the wheel while I sat willing the car to go faster.

Two of my father's men are in the vehicle behind us. Vincent's people—men whose names I don't know and don't want to know. But I need them now. If Bellamy's still here, if he tries to fight, I need people who know how to handle it.

The cabin comes into view: small, isolated. Exactly where you'd hide someone.

My heart hammers as Ayden kills the engine.

"Wait for my signal," I tell the men behind us. "I go in first."

I'm out before the car fully stops, gun in hand. The weight of it is unfamiliar and terrible.

The cabin door is unlocked. First sign something's wrong.

I push it open slowly, weapon raised. "Sophie?"

Silence. I step inside: living room, kitchen, bedroom doors open. Empty.

"Clear," I call back.

But Sophie was definitely here. Women's clothes on a chair—jeans and sweaters I recognize. A toothbrush by the sink, a book on the nightstand.

She was here, lived here for days. And now she's gone.

I walk through the house looking for signs of life, of struggle, signs of anything.

In the kitchen, the scent hits me. Sophie's perfume—that light floral scent she always wears. Faint, but there.

She was here this morning. Recently enough that her perfume hasn't faded.

"Adrian." Ayden appears in the doorway. "Lewis men are outside. They're wondering if we can intercept the car. Tracks in the gravel look fresh—they left within the last few hours."

Within the last few hours. Which means we missed them by minutes, maybe less.

If we'd driven faster, if we'd left earlier, if Vincent had found the location just one hour sooner…

On the table, something catches my eye. A burner phone—cheap, disposable. The kind you buy with cash and throw away after one use.

There's a message on the screen. Just one.

She's safe with me. Leave us alone for good.

I stare at the words until they blur.

‘She's safe with me.’

As if that makes any of this okay. As if kidnapping someone, holding them captive, taking them from their daughter somehow becomes acceptable because Bellamy has decided she's "safe" with him.

‘Leave us alone for good.’

The audacity of it makes my blood boil. He thinks he can just... what? Keep her? Play house in some new location? Continue this insane fantasy where Sophie eventually falls in love with her kidnapper?

I want to throw the phone against the wall, want to tear this entire cabin apart, want to scream until my throat is raw.

Instead, I pocket the phone and walk outside.

The Lewis men are by their car, smoking and talking in low voices. They fall silent when they see my expression.

"Spread out," I tell them. "Search the perimeter, look for anything—tire tracks, discarded items, any indication of which direction they went."

They move immediately, no questions asked.

Ayden puts a hand on my shoulder. "We'll find her, man. This isn't over."

I don't answer. Because right now it feels very much like it is over.

***

The suburban diner is nearly deserted at six in the morning. I'm sitting at a table outside despite the early chill, watching the occasional car pass on the highway.

The diner isn't far from where Sophie was recently held—maybe twenty minutes. Close enough that I couldn't bring myself to drive back to the city yet. Far enough that I'm not staring at that empty cabin anymore.

Lolita pulls up in her black Mercedes exactly on time.

She was clearly asleep before my call. Her dark hair is pulled back into a messy bun instead of its usual sleek style, and she's wearing oversized sunglasses even though the sun hasn't fully risen yet.

Trying to hide her fatigue, probably. Or maybe just the fact that I woke her up at five-thirty demanding she meet me.

A cigarette is already tucked between her fingers as she approaches the table. She doesn't sit immediately—just stands there for a moment, assessing me with that unreadable expression she's perfected.

"You look like crap," she says finally, taking the chair across from me. "So I'll keep quiet and let you talk first."

Despite everything, I almost smile. That's Lolita—blunt to the point of brutality, but somehow it's exactly what I need right now.

"We were too late," I say, my head dropping into my hands. "By hours, maybe less. They were there. Sophie was there. And now they're gone and I have no idea where."

I was so close. So fucking close. If we'd just been faster…

"Adrian." Lolita's tone shifts slightly. Still cool, still controlled, but with an edge I recognize.

I look up. "Do you know something about Sophie?"

She shakes her head, taking a drag from her cigarette. "No. Different topic. But you won't like this one either."

My stomach sinks. "Lisette."

"Smart guess."

"Just tell me." I lean back in my chair, exhausted. "Whatever it is, it's still a problem that needs to be resolved. Might as well deal with it now."

Lolita taps ash into the tray on the table.

"Lisette continues to plot against you through her intermediaries. We've confirmed she's coordinating with someone—multiple communications, encrypted channels, the works. But so far we haven't been able to identify this person or obtain more information about their plans."

"What do you mean you haven't been able to identify them?"

The words come out harsher than I intend.

"That's literally what you do, Lolita. You find people. You get information. For someone like you, this should be a piece of cake. Especially with your ego—if that even counts for anything."

The silence that follows is pregnant with meaning.

Lolita doesn't move, doesn't flinch—just sits there smoking, her expression completely neutral behind those dark sunglasses.

And that's when I realize what I just said.

"Shit." I run my hands through my hair. "Lolita, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You're helping us, helping me, and I'm snapping at you like an asshole."

She waves a hand dismissively, cigarette trailing smoke. "Don't worry about it. I'm completely indifferent to what others think of me. Comes with the territory."

But there's something in her voice, just a slight edge that tells me the words landed even if she won't admit it.

"Still," I say. "That was out of line."

"It was." She takes another drag. "But understandable given the circumstances. You just missed rescuing the woman you love by a matter of hours. You're entitled to be an asshole for at least the next twenty-four."

Despite everything, that almost makes me laugh.

"I'll dig deeper on the Lisette situation.”

Lolita continues, stubbing out her cigarette.

"Cross-reference her known associates, monitor her financial transactions more closely, maybe even plant someone in her social circle if it comes to that. Next time I see you, I'll have good news. Or at least better news than this."

She stands, adjusting her sunglasses.

"Thank you," I say, and I mean it. "For coming out here, for helping with all of this."

"That's what friends are for." She pauses. "Even if we never actually call each other that."

Then she's walking back to her car, heels clicking against the pavement, cigarette already being replaced with a fresh one.

I watch her drive away, then turn back to stare at the empty highway.

Sophie's out there somewhere. With Bellamy. Running.

But I'll find her. However long it takes, I'll find her.