"Fat lot of good that did us. Little prick had an alibi. Not that I believe a fucking word of it."
Damien’s interrogation had been a bust. He had been found in a crappy bed-and-breakfast down by London. Logan had been the one to throw him against a wall, demanding to know where Cade was, while I stood by and let it happen. Damien's terrifiedface, his insistence that he had nothing to do with the abduction. The bitter words he'd spat at us when we finally had to let him go:
"She was a good girl before you three got your claws in her. Whatever happened to her, you brought it on yourselves." He'd been right, of course. That was the worst part. That was the part that had hurt the worst, knowing that the very real possibility of Cade’s disappearance was because of us.
"Come upstairs," I said, trying one last time. "Just for a little while." Logan turned back to the punching bag, settling into his stance.
"I'm busy."
"Beating yourself up won't bring her back, Logan." His fist connected with the bag, hard enough that the chain holding it creaked in protest.
"Nothing will bring her back," he said, his voice so low I almost missed it. "She's fucking gone, Cole. And it's my fault." I wanted to argue, to tell him we'd find her, that she was strong and would survive whatever was happening to her. But the words stuck in my throat, held back by the same fear that kept me awake at night, staring at the ceiling and imagining the worst.
"We'll keep looking," was all I could manage. Logan didn't respond, just resumed his punishing rhythm against the bag. The conversation, such as it was, was over.
I left him there, climbing the stairs back to the main floor with heavy feet. Rosa looked up hopefully as I entered the dining room, then registered my expression and the continued absence of the other Regents.
"They're not coming, are they?" she asked softly. I shook my head, unable to summon the energy for more lies.
"Sorry, Rosa." She nodded, unsurprised but disappointed nonetheless.
"I'll set aside plates for them. For when they're ready."
The housemen filtered in, taking their seats around the table with subdued murmurs. Harrison, Owen, Ryan, and the others, all young men who'd chosen to spend their Christmas here, in this house of grief, rather than with their families. Their loyalty should have warmed me, but all I felt was the hollow ache of failure. I took my seat at the head of the table, Logan and Ryder's empty chairs flanking me like ghosts. Rosa brought out the food, and the men served themselves, the clink of silverware against china the only sound in the room. I raised my glass, feeling the weight of their expectant gazes. A toast was a traditional part of Christmas at Covenant House. Usually, it would be Logan’s job to make it, something about brotherhood and loyalty, about the year's achievements and the promises of the one to come. But Logan wasn't here. So it fell to me.
"To family," I said, my voice cracking slightly on the word. "Wherever they are."
The housemen echoed the toast, their voices a quiet chorus of shared pain. As I took a sip of wine, a memory surfaced: Cade at this very table, laughing at something Ryder had said, her purple hair falling across her face. The way she'd looked at each of us, her expression a complex mix of wariness and growing affection. How her smile had lit up the room, making it feel, for the first time in years, like I actually belonged. I set my glass down, staring at the empty chair where she should have been sitting. The food on my plate might as well have been cardboard for all I could taste. The housemen ate in silence, occasionally exchanging quiet words or passing dishes back and forth. I pushed food around my plate, going through the motions for their sake. When dinner finally ended, they dispersed, murmuring thanks to Rosa and nodding to me, before returning to their rooms or resuming the ongoing search efforts.
I remained at the table as Rosa cleared away the dishes, refusing her offers to bring me anything else. The house settled into its now-familiar hush, not the peaceful quiet of contentment, but the heavy silence of absence. In the stillness, I could almost hear the echo of Cade's voice, her laughter, her defiance. The way she'd challenge us, stand up to us, even as we tried to break her. How she'd somehow wormed her way into our hearts despite all our efforts to keep her at a distance. It felt like everything I looked at was a reminder of her, and now it seemed like a faded reminder of how we had failed.
We were falling apart; that was one thing I was sure of. The Regents, hell, even Covenant House. Without Cade, the cracks in our foundation had widened into chasms, and I didn't know if they could ever be repaired. Logan drowned in guilt and whiskey, Ryder lost in his obsessive search, and me, trying desperately to hold the pieces together even as they crumbled in my hands.
"Merry Christmas, brother," Cole said as he closed my door. I didn't respond. The words hung in the stale air of my room, an absurd pleasantry that meant nothing. Christmas. As if that mattered. As if anything mattered beyond the blue glow of my monitors, beyond the grainy footage I'd watched a thousand times, beyond the moment when my Cade, my Poison,disappeared from my life.
I turned back to the screens, my eyes burning from lack of sleep. The footage played on a loop: Cade walking down Water Lane, arms wrapped around herself, looking small and vulnerable. Her pulling out the phone, knowing it was me on the other end, knowing it was the last time she had spoken to me. Then the van appearing. The men grabbing her. Her struggle. The blow to her head. Her body going limp. Every time I watched it, I died a little more.
"Slow it down," I muttered to myself, fingers flying over the keyboard. "Frame by frame after the door opens." I zoomed in on the grainy image, trying to catch something, anything, that might give us a lead. A partial license plate. A distinguishing mark on the van. A glimpse of a face beneath those black masks. However, the footage remained stubbornly impenetrable, refusing to yield its secrets, no matter how many filters I applied or how many enhancement algorithms I used.
My stomach cramped with hunger, but I ignored it. The thought of sitting down to Christmas dinner while Cade was out there somewhere, cold, afraid, hurt, made me physically ill. How could Cole even suggest it? How could anyone in this house pretend that today was anything but another day of failure? I reached for the energy drink beside my keyboard, only to find the can empty. With a curse, I crushed it in my fist and tossed it onto the growing pile of empties. My hands were shaking, I noticed distantly. From caffeine, from exhaustion, from the constant, gnawing terror that lived in my chest now. Sleep wasn't an option. I'd tried once. Closed my eyes for what was meant to be twenty minutes and plunged straight into nightmares: Cade screaming my name as faceless men dragged her away; Cade bound and gagged in a dark room, her eyes widewith terror; Cade's body, pale and lifeless, abandoned in some ditch. Her lifeless eyes accusing me of failing her all over again. I'd woken up screaming, drenched in sweat, and vowed not to sleep again until I found her.
I rewound the footage again. Play. Pause. Zoom. Enhance. The ritual had become my lifeline, the only thing keeping me sane. As long as I was working, as long as I was searching, I could push back the darker thoughts, the ones that whispered she might already be.
No. I refused to even allow the thought to enter my head. Like the very thought of it would make it happen.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. A reply from one of my contacts in city traffic surveillance. I snatched it up, heart racing with hope, only to have it crushed again.
Marcus:
No new angles on the van. Still working on adjacent street cams. Will update when I can.
Not good enough. Nowhere near fucking good enough. I dialled the number, my leg bouncing with agitation as I waited for him to pick up.
"Ryder?" The voice that answered sounded wary. "I just texted you-"
"Your text tells me nothing," I snapped. "I need those adjacent camera feeds now, not when you get around to it."
"Look, man, I'm doing my best, but it's Christmas Day. Most of the office is out, and I'm working with limited-"
