The hallway is packed with bodies, beer, laughter. Someone spills vodka down their shirt.
No Wren.
A pulse of unease hits my ribs.
Ease up, moron. She’s here somewhere.
Aubrey steps into my path, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Hey, did you see Wren? She wasn’t where I left her. I thought maybe she went to you.”
“Weren’t you with her a minute ago?” The words come out too sharp, too fast.
Aubrey blinks. “Maybe she ducked into the bathroom?”
“Yeah.” I force my voice down a notch, even as something coils tighter in my gut.
Stop panicking. Wren’s an adult. She’s fine.
Still, I head down the hallway, checking open rooms, alcoves, the cluster by the stairs.
Nothing.
“Wren!” I call over the music, loud enough to turn heads.
I pull out my phone. My last text to her is still on read.
KIERAN
On my way back. Where are you?
Delivered. I stare at the screen, willing it to change.
I hit call. The phone rings once, twice?—
Voicemail.
“She’s not answering.”
Dalton appears beside me, hand landing on my shoulder. “Relax, man. She probably?—”
“She’s not answering,” I repeat, harder.
Riley comes from the other direction, sees my face, and his smirk drops. “What’s going on?”
“Have you seen Wren?”
He lifts a brow. “Kier, come on. It’s a party. She’s fine.”
Dalton chuckles. “She’s probably in the bathroom line. It’s twenty people deep.”
My jaw grinds. “Where’s Reed?”
The question hangs in the air.
Dalton’s face shifts, the joke gone instantly. “He walked past us a few minutes ago.” His voice drops. “What are you thinking?”
I don’t answer.
Because I’m already moving, shoving past bodies, Dalton and Riley flanking me. Aubrey’s right behind us, panic rising off her in waves.
