Rhett’s chest heaved. His mouth opened—like he had more to say—but the words never came. Instead, he turned and walked out.
No bag. No hoodie. Just his keys in one hand and fury in the other.
Gone.
Jay looked at me.
I didn’t say anything. Becausewhat the hell was there to say?
We were unraveling.
Not because of the press.
Not because of Beckett.
Because Wren wasn’t here—and none of us knew how to handle that without making it worse.
What I hated most was I couldn’t protect her if I didn’t know where she was. I couldn’t help with… whatever she needed assistance with and though I had no evidence, a part of me was dead certain that sheneededsomething.
Fresh anger ripped through my veins and I glared at the lockers. It took me a minute to get that wave of aggression under control, but by the time I did, the locker room was empty except for Jay.
He watched me with eyes as calm as a midnight pond on a still day. “Better?”
“No.” That was the truth. “But I’ll deal with it. Let’s get out of here.”
I dragged on my clothes in a hurry, ready to be out of the locker room, the arena—fuck the goddamn city. Jay snagged Rhett’s hoodie and bag along with his own while I finished. Once I had my duffel and turned to face him, Jay lifted his chin.
“We could go look for her.”
It was absolutely the last thing I expected him to say.
“What?”
“We could go look for her,” he repeated, not an ounce of emotion bleeding into his voice or shifting his stance.
Hunting her down crossed a line. We weren’t invited and she hadn’t even left us an in case of emergency notification. I glanced down at the still unread message on my screen.
“She’s an adult,” I said, reminding him. Reminding me. “Not really?—”
“She’s our friend,” Jay said cutting me off. “We’re worried about her. You’re worried. Rhett’s frantic. If we check on her and she’s fine, she can be pissed at us. But we’ll know.”
He had a point.
“And if she isn’t okay…” Jay didn’t even have to finish that thought.
“Where the fuck do we start?”
Chapter
Eight
WREN
Less than twenty-four hours after I got to my destination, I’d already run out of things to organize.
Not for lack of trying.
The cabin was small, tucked into the side of a wooded slope just east of Yellowstone—barely a dot on any map, and even less on cell service. The snow made it beautiful. The silence made it perfect. The remoteness made itsafe—from cameras, from gossip, from men with sharp eyes and sharper instincts.
