Not Sierra.
My focus snapped hard to the front window.
I didn’t see her blonde hair. Didn’t see her eyes flicking toward me like she was checking that I was still there.
Something cold slid into my chest.
“Sutton?” Gray’s voice cut in. “Knox.”
I turned my head, scanning fast.
The sidewalk. The curb. The store interior through the glass.
Nothing.
No Sierra.
No movement that made sense.
My body moved before my mind finished processing. I was off my truck, stride long and controlled, and the street around me blurred into irrelevance.
I pushed into the boutique like I owned it.
The bell over the door jingled.
The smell hit first, sweet and soft, normal. Vanilla diffuser. Warm cedar. A world with no blood in it.
A salesgirl looked up, startled. “Can I help you?”
My eyes were already raking through the place. Dressing rooms. Back hallway. Emergency exit.
“The blonde girl,” I said, voice low. “Where is she?”
The girl blinked.
“Blonde. Blue eyes. Bag. Where’d she go?”
The salesgirl’s face paled. “She… she stepped out. A few minutes ago.”
A few minutes.
Minutes are enough.
Minutes get people killed.
I was already turning, already outside, scanning the street with a soldier’s cold precision. My gaze cut to the alley beside the boutique, the narrow gap between buildings that would swallow a person whole if you didn’t know to look.
And it was empty.
Too empty.
My hand went to my ear like I could drag the truth through the phone line by force.
“Gray,” I said, voice flat. Controlled. “She’s gone.”
Silence.
Then, immediately, steel.
