My bear paces inside me anxiously.
“We’ll find her,” I repeat.“Soon.”
I stare out at the darkening sky, wondering what to do now.
ELEVEN
Fern
I’ve lostcount of how many times I’ve called Roxie.
Ten?
Twenty?
A hundred?
Every time, it goes straight to voicemail.
Every time, the little spike of hope in my chest flickers… then dies.
Jameson has been hovering all day, not smothering, not controlling.Just there.Solid.A steady presence orbiting around me while we wait for news.He keeps making food, placing plates in front of me that neither of us actually touches.
But the effort alone makes my throat tighten.
He’s worried.I can see it in the way his jaw works, the way he keeps checking his phone, the way his hand never strays too far from mine.He tries to hide it, but I know fear when I see it.
I’m wrapped in his arms on the couch when the worst finally happens.
His phone rings.
Jameson stiffens.Just a fraction.But enough for my heart to pound so hard it hurts.
He answers quickly, voice tight.“Yeah?”
Silence.
Then—
“Where?”
More silence.A growl so low I feel it rumble through his chest.Then a clipped, “We’re coming.”
He hangs up slowly.
“Jameson?”My voice is barely a whisper.
He looks at me, and I already know from the shadow in his eyes that this isn’t good news.
“They found Roxie,” he says softly.
Relief blooms, sharp and bright, before fear slams into me like a punch.
“Where?”I ask.“Is she okay?Is she?—”
“The cult has her.”
The world tilts.
