“We need to find him.” The urgency sharpens my voice.
“Already working on it.” Lucia’s expression softens fractionally. “Darius is running his vehicle through traffic cams. If he’s still in the city, we’ll find him.”
“Thank you.”
She nods and moves toward the door. I follow her.
“If Darius finds Chris,” I say quietly, “don’t approach him. Just let us know where he is.”
She nods and leaves.
I call Callie from the bedroom while Wyatt showers. He needs a minute alone, and I need to make calls without him hearing me manage the crisis.
“Nina?” Callie sounds groggy. “Everything okay?”
“No.” I sink onto the edge of the bed. Nikita immediately climbs into my lap, a warm, purring weight. “Chris is gone. He left last night—his phone’s off and we don’t know where he is.”
In a sharper tone she asks, “What happened?”
“I can’t get into it right now. But I need you and Mason to keep an eye out. If he shows up at your place, or if you hear anything, let me know.”
“Absolutely. Do you want Mason to start looking?”
“Lucia’s already on it. I just need more eyes.”
“Done.” Another pause. “Nina, is he okay? I mean, mentally?”
I think of Wyatt’s bruised throat. Of Chris fleeing into the night, convinced he’s become the monster Vicente made him. Of Wyatt’s fear, the same fear I’m pushing down so I can function, the fear that Chris might not want to come back.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
After we hang up, I stare at my phone for a long moment. There’s one more person who might be able to find Chris. Someone who understands the world he moves in.
The shower’s still running. I slip down the hall to my office and wake up my computer, pulling up Chris’s handler file on Tatiana. Her burner number is listed under emergency contacts, a phone she keeps on her but rarely uses.
I type out a text before I can second-guess it.
NINA: This is Nina Palmer. Chris went off-grid last night. If you hear from him, please let me know he’s safe. Don’t tell anyone else I reached out.
I hit send and pocket my phone.
When Wyatt emerges from the shower, his hair damp and a regular t-shirt replacing the turtleneck, I’m standing at the kitchen window, watching the street. He looks marginally more human. The shower helped, or at least the privacy did.
He moves to stand beside me, following my gaze. The street is quiet. Normal. A neighbor walking their dog. A car pulling into a driveway three doors down.
“What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know. Whatever Lucia’s people missed.” I don’t turn from the window. “Someone was watching this house at two in the morning. Chris is out there somewhere, alone, thinking he’s a monster. And I’m standing here feeling useless.”
“You’re not useless. You’re the one holding this together.”
“Am I?” I finally turn to face him. “Because right now I’m angry and scared and trying very hard not to fall apart. I’m managing you because it’s easier than managing myself.”
His expression shifts. “Nina?—”
“I should have been awake.” The words come out sharper than I intend. “I should have been there. Maybe I could have—” I stop myself. Exhale. “I know that’s not fair. I know I needed sleep. But I hate that I was unconscious while everything fell apart. That I didn’t make us talk first. I hate that you had to deal with that alone.”
Wyatt reaches for me, his hand finding my elbow. “You being awake wouldn’t have changed what happened.”
