“Mia, go check her office.Now.Her phone’s not responding, and I need to know if she’s still there.”
Please. Let her have just forgotten to charge it.Please.
Seconds tick by like hours. Then Mia’s voice comes back—shaking.
“Elijah… She's not here. Her phone’s on the floor. The screen cracked. And the papers she was … ” A breath. “They’re scattered everywhere.”
The air leaves my lungs. The world tilts, folds in on itself.
She 's gone.
Someone took the woman I love. While I was FUCKING sleeping.
I’m already moving, already calling Kai, already telling Keller to ping the tracker in her bracelet. The one I never told her about. The one that could be her goddamn lifeline.
“Tell me you’re watching her signal,” I growl into the phone as I throw open the hidden drawer where I keep the guns I swore I wouldn’t need anymore.
Fuck.
“The tracker,” I bark. “Ava’s bracelet. Tell me you’re watching the signal.”
A pause. Too long.
Kai’s voice comes low. Serious. “The primary signal went dark about forty minutes ago.”
My chest constricts. “What does that mean?”
“The tracker transmits once every two hours,” Keller explains. “The bead’s too small for a constant signal—no battery. It works like a beacon. The last ping came in almost an hour ago. That means we’ll get another one soon.”
I spin on him, fury simmering just beneath the surface. “We have to wait a fuckinghourto find out where she is?”
Keller stays calm, but his jaw tightens. “It’s the best we’ve got without her phone. We’ll get a location.”
“Thatlunatichas my woman, and you’re telling me to wait?” My voice cracks with rage, with fear. “What if he’s already hurt her? What if she’s out there, terrified, and I’m standing here doing nothing?”
Right now, I don’t give a damn about Keller, or the Kingstons, or whatever underground war is brewing beneath our feet.
I only care abouther.
I need Avahome. I need to see her breathing, crying,cursing me out—anything that proves she’s still alive. Still whole. Still fucking mine.
I shove my hands into my hair, trying to hold myself together, but the clock is ticking too loudly in my head. Every second feels like a scream.
“She trusted me to keep her safe,” I grit out. “And I let her walk right into this.”
Kade answers over speaker. “We’ve got satellites queued. As soon as it fires, we’ll have a location.”
But they don’t understand.
I’m already strapping on my shoulder holster. Already loading the pistol I haven’t used in years. The old instincts snap into place like they never left.
Because the man I became to leave that life behind—the tattoo artist, the calm, reformed protector—that man is gone now.
They don’t know what I know. What she’s survived. What she’s afraid of. What she doesn’t believe she deserves.
And now she’s out there. Terrified. Alone. Because I let her leave.
I slam my fist against the wall, pain blooming across my knuckles, grounding me in fury. I taste blood in my mouth from how hard I’m clenching my jaw.
