Her Crazy Boyfriend.

Chapter Thirty-five

THE SEARCH FOR MIA

Night had fallen, and Mia awakened to find herself alone in a decrepit building. Her wrists and ankles were bound to a chair, and the darkness was so profound she could barely see. As she strained to listen, muted voices drifted from outside.

"You fools!" a woman's voice lashed out. "I asked for the lady, but you brought her and some stranger. Your incompetence is staggering. I should have sent someone more capable."

Mia's heart skipped a beat. That voice sounded eerily like Sophia's.

"We apologize, ma'am," a man replied. "We didn't anticipate anyone else being with her. He put up quite a fight, and we couldn't leave him behind."

"Get rid of him immediately," the woman ordered, her tone cold and calculating.

Mia's thoughts turned to Dylan, and she silently sobbed. "He mustn't die because of me. He's brilliant, with an exceptionally high IQ – one of the reasons I fell for him."

Dylan, now awake, had overheard the conversation. Determined to escape, he assessed his surroundings. He was in a cramped, dingy room within the dilapidated building. Flies buzzed around his ears, and dust filled the air. His bound wrists and ankles slickened with sweat as frustration overwhelmed him.

"Somebody, help!" he cried out, only to hear Mia's muffled voice from the adjacent room.

"Mia, baby, just hang in there. I'll save you," Dylan whispered, tears streaming down his face.

Meanwhile, Nora had awoken to find Mia missing. Frantic, she scoured their home and the nearby store but found no sign of her sister.

"Where are you, Mia?" Nora cried out in desperation, dialing her sister's number for the umpteenth time, only to find it switched off.

A sudden thought struck her. "Maybe she's with Bryson." Nora dialed his number, which Mia had shared days earlier.

Bryson answered on the first ring, his tone expectant. "Is Mia with you?" Nora asked nervously.

"Mia? Saints! I've been trying to reach her, but her phone's off. What's going on? Where is she if not with you?" Bryson's voice betrayed concern.

Nora's voice trembled. "Honestly, Bryson, I don't know. She said she'd step out for something this afternoon, but she hasn't returned."

"Calm down, Nora. I've tried tracking her, but her line is unreachable," Bryson reassured.

A sudden realization struck Nora. "I think I know where she might be, Bryson. I'll call you later," she said, ending the call without awaiting his response.

Nora swiftly dressed and rushed to her car, heading to Mrs. Miller's residence. Upon arrival, she found Mrs. Miller engrossed in a TV series, while Alvin was lost in a book.

"Sister!" Alvin exclaimed, sprinting to Nora and enveloping her in a tight hug. Nora forced a smile, concealing her concern.

Mrs. Miller's expression turned worried. "Nora, is everything alright? You rarely visit this late. Where's Mia?"

"Mum, I'm fine. I just needed to ask if Mia came to the restaurant today or if she's with you?" Nora inquired.

Mrs. Miller's brow furrowed. "No, baby, I haven't seen Mia since your last visit. We spoke yesterday, though. What's wrong? Is she not with you? Did you quarrel?"

Nora swiftly fabricated an excuse to alleviate Mrs. Miller's anxiety. "No, Mum, we didn't fight. Mia's probably with Bryson; she mentioned visiting him. I'll leave now. Goodnight, Mum."

Mrs. Miller's relief was palpable. "Thank you, dear."

As Nora departed, Alvin bid her goodbye. Sitting in her car, Nora's worry intensified.

"Mia's not with Bryson or Mum, and her phone's off... this has never happened before. What should I do?" she exclaimed, frustration etched on her face.

A sudden thought occurred to her. "Could she be with Dylan? No, that's impossible." Nora shook her head, dismissing the idea.

"Mia, you've left me no choice. He's my only lead," Nora resigned, driving toward Dylan's apartment.

Meanwhile, Dylan's mind raced with desperate thoughts. "You can do this, Dylan. Don't give up," he encouraged himself, scanning the dimly lit room for a potential weapon.

A glimmer of hope emerged as he spotted a blunt knife beside a rotten orange. Dylan's excitement was short-lived, however, as his chair toppled, inflicting a gash on his face.

Undeterred, he grasped the knife and began cutting the rope binding his hands. The blunt blade made progress arduous, but Dylan persisted.

"Sooner or later, I'll free myself," he muttered, a resolute smile spreading across his face.