“Tell me you have Justice,” I rasp.
Silence.
Then, “What? Josie, I don’t—I didn’t pick him up.”
My knees almost give out.
The room tilts. The buzzing in my head gets so loud I can barely think.
Sara’s still talking, her voice urgent, but I can’t hear her anymore because I’m already dialing Dean.
I don’t even know if he’ll answer. I just know I need him right this second.
The moment I hear his voice, I completely fall apart.
“Jo?” His tone shifts immediately, sharp and alert. “What’s wrong?”
I can’t breathe. Can’t get the words out.
“He’s gone,” I choke.
The line goes deadly silent.
Then, “I’m on my way.”
I don’t know how much time passes before the roar of motorcycles shakes the pavement beneath me.
One after another, bikes pull into the parking lot, headlights cutting through the dimming daylight, surrounding me.
Dean is off his bike before the engine even dies, striding toward me.
I’m still on the ground where my legs gave out, my arms wrapped around myself, barely holding it together.
He crouches, hands framing my face. “Look at me.”
I do.
His jaw is tight, his eyes burning with something dark and dangerous.
“We’re gonna find him,” he promises, voice rough.
His arms come around me, pulling me into his chest, and for the first time since I heard those words—Sara picked him up—I let myself believe he will be home with me soon.
The silence in my house is suffocating.
Sara sits beside me on the couch, her knee bouncing restlessly. Neither of us speaks, both of us waiting for my phone to ring, for Dean to call and tell me they found Justice.
I grip my phone so tight my knuckles ache. Every second that ticks by is another second my son is gone.
Then it rings.
I nearly drop it in my scramble to answer.
But the second I see the name on the screen, my stomach lurches.
Brett.
I hesitate, heart pounding, before pressing the phone to my ear. “Where is he?”
