Another.
“Old routes. Storage units. Service roads. Anywhere he’d go to stay off the grid.”
Piece by piece, the net tightens.
When I lower the phone, the room feels sharper. Smaller. Focused.
Zane looks up. “I’ll have a direction in ten.”
“Make it five.”
He nods once.
Finn has stopped pacing.
That’s worse.
He’s standing still now, eyes locked on me, a hardness settling behind them.
“You’re not waiting,” he says.
“No.”
“Good.”
I look down at the necklace one last time—the broken clasp, the slight bend where it snapped.
He made sure she felt it.
He made sure I would too.
That’s his mistake.
I set it on the bar.
“She’s alive,” I say.
Zane nods. Finn doesn’t look away.
They both understand.
I reach for my jacket, pulling it on, the weight settling into place.
For weeks, I told myself I was building something better here. A life that wasn’t related to the man I used to be.
That man never went anywhere; he just stopped being necessary.
Until now.
I look at them.
“My way didn’t keep her safe,” I say quietly.
No one argues.
I step toward the door.
Pause.
