Diego knows it.
I know it.
Still, I gun the engine and tear off toward the main house, gravel kicking up behind me.
The thing about being a soldier is, the training never leaves you.
The gut-deep sense ofsomething’s offhits hard and fast when I round the bend and see Angie’s car missing from the drive.
My stomach drops straight through the goddamn floor.
I kill the engine before the ATV’s even fully stopped, jump off, and take the porch steps two at a time.
“Bit?”I call, already reaching for my phone.
No answer.
I check the sewing room first—it still smells like fabric and that fancy lavender detergent she likes, but it’s empty.
“Bit?”
The living room’s quiet.
The den’s empty.
My office—nothing.
By the time I hit the bedroom, my pulse is pounding so loud it’s all I can hear.
“BIT!”I roar, the sound raw and echoing through the house.
Nothing.
Every muscle in my body locks tight, ready for fight or flight, and I’m already scrolling through my contacts to call Benji when I hear it—the lowput-put-putof an engine coming up the drive.
Angie’s Mazda.
I storm out onto the porch just as she rolls up, a bright smile plastered on her face.
Bit’s sitting shotgun, matching her grin, one arm hooked out the window, wind-tousled and glowing like she’s had the best damn day of her life.
Me?
I’m seething.
The relief hits first—sharp and dizzying—but it’s swallowed fast by the gut-deep flare of anger that follows.
Because all I can see iswhat if.
What if Roach found them?
What if that little Mazda broke down on the back road with no signal?
What if the wrong person saw her?Did something to her?
And then the raw, scary, unthinkable hits me—what if she just left?
I can’t handle that.I won’t even try to.
