The next afternoon, I was finally discharged. I asked Taylor to take me straight to Nyah’s apartment. I banged on the door, my heart pounding louder with every second of silence.
No answer.
I called her again.
Still disconnected.
My hands shook as I pulled out the spare key and opened the door.
The apartment was empty.
No Nyah.
No Lucas.
Nothing.
The place echoed when I took a step.
I stood there, staring at the walls as her absence pressed down on me. She’d vanished.
The memory of the woods hit me with brutal force—the chaos, the fear, the sound of gunfire.
Jeremy.
Rage surged, tightening every muscle in my body. The bastard had hunted her, terrorized her, and forced her to live in fear for years. He had put Lucas in danger. He had nearly destroyed everything she had fought so hard to build.
Even now, the thought of what he had done to her made my hands curl into fists. If he had still been alive, I would have finished the job myself.
Then my father called and told me to come to the house immediately.
“She’s gone!” I said the moment I walked into my parents’ home.
Everyone stood in the foyer, stiff and silent.
“We know,” Sophia said flatly.
“What do you mean, ‘you know’? What exactly is going on?”
“We’ve known for a while now,” said Bruce, stepping forward. “I’m so sorry!”
“I’m sorry, son.” My father handed me a piece of paper. “I’m sorry she ever entered our lives.” He walked away, pain etched across his face.
I read the letter.
Only days earlier, after Jeremy had been shot and the girls were finally safe, relief had swept through me so powerfully it had left me shaking.
The nightmare was over.
The memory of the woods came rushing back with brutal clarity.
Jeremy had grabbed the gun.
I still saw it—the cold determination in his eyes, the way the barrel lifted, aimed straight at me.
Everything had happened in seconds.
Before I could react, before I could move, Nyah had thrown herself onto me.
