“I have to go get him,” I say, turning toward the door.
“Saramaria, wait,” Rhett says, stepping into my path. “It’s pouring out there. You can’t go in that.”
“I have to!” I scream, shoving his hand away. “He’s a puppy, Rhett! He’s scared! He’s all alone out there!”
“I’ll go,” Rhett says calmly. “I’ll put on my coat and go check the stables. You stay here by the fire.”
“No!” I shout. “I’m not waiting here! What if he’s not there? What if he wandered toward the road? I need to find him.”
“You’re not dressed for it,” Knox says, standing up. He gestures to my shorts and socks. “You’ll freeze in five minutes.”
“I don’t care!”
I turn and run to the front door. I can hear them behind me, their boots heavy on the floor.
“Don’t,” Boone says. His voice is right behind me. “It’s raining.”
I don’t listen. I throw the door open.
The wind hits me like a physical blow, a wall of wet, freezing air that nearly sends me staggering back. The rain is horizontal, stinging my face like needles. The cold is immediate, biting through my sweater and shorts instantly.
I step out onto the porch.
“Wellsy!” I scream.
The sound is torn away by the wind, lost in the howl of the storm. The yard is a churning mess of mud and darkness. The only light comes from the occasional flash of lightning, which splits the sky with a blinding crack.
“Wellsy! Come here!”
I jump off the porch, my socks sinking instantly into the freezing mud. The water squelches between my toes, a horrible, sucking sensation.
I run toward the direction of the stables. I can barely see. The flashlight beam is useless in the heavy rain; it just illuminates the sheets of water falling in front of me.
“Wellsy! Please!”
I stumble, catching myself on the rough bark of a tree. My hands are numb. My legs are shaking. The cold is shocking, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I reach the edge of the yard where the grass gives way to the dirt path that leads to the barn.
“Wellsy!”
Something moves in the darkness near the barn door. A flash of blue and black fur.
“Blue?”
Blue steps out from the shadow of the overhang. He shakes himself, water flying everywhere. He looks at me, his tail wagging once then ducking between his legs. He whines.
“Where is he, Blue?” I cry, reaching for him. “Where’s Wellsy?”
Blue just looks at me, then turns and looks back toward the open field, toward the drainage culvert. He barks, the sound cutting through the wind.
The culvert.
The hole where I found him the last time.
“Oh god,” I whisper. “No.”
I turn to run toward the culvert, but a huge hand grabs my arm and spins me around.
