One month ago…
I stop pretending I'm functioning. Sleep becomes a rumor other people believe in. Food is something I shove into my mouth only when Bjorn threatens to sedate me himself. And every minute that passes without Claire feels like a countdown to something catastrophic inside my chest.
Time doesn’t move normally anymore. It pulses. It claws. It hurts. Every hour she’s gone, I feel it, a tightening in me, a burning within my body, a hollow warmth in the space where she’s supposed to be lying in our bed.
I don’t recognize myself when I catch my reflection. My eyes look like something where madness has taken root inside them. Bjorn doesn’t comment on the change; none of my brothers do.
And Leander watches me with a silent worry that only makes me more unhinged because he loved her too in his own way, a loyal, earnest, almost childlike devotion.
And I know he can feel it. The absence. Her capture, right under my guard's nose, was wrong, despite all the careful ways I thought I had calculated to protect her.
The truth is that Claire is out there somewhere, hurting, frightened, and alone, and I’m not with her.
Every morning,we meet in the kitchen, the place Claire used to make tea while humming under her breath, barefoot on the tile.
Now it’s a war room. A map of Houston covers the dining table. Red strings connect properties owned by shell companies. Markers show sightings of SableCorp vans over the last six months. Axel’s laptop shows codes spilling across the screen like rainfall.
“Nothing still?” I grit through my teeth, already knowing the answer.
Axel shakes his head. “Their digital trail is too clean. Too intentional.”
“Meaning?” I bark.
“Meaning they prepared for this day long before they took Claire," he sighs; our patience is straining.
My jaw flexes so hard I hear something pop in my ear. “They knew....”
Bjorn solemnly states, "They were aware that you would go to great lengths to locate her… They planned around it.”
The air goes still. He’s right. Someone who studied me designed the entire operation, including the fake call, the timed location jump, and the wiped footage.
Someone who knew how I’d react under threat. Someone who wanted my rage pointed in exactly the wrong direction long enough for them to disappear.
Claire wasn’t stolen randomly. She was hunted… My hands shake.
In the middleof the second month, we finally get our first real break.
My brother bursts through my door, Axel’s laptop pressed to his chest like a holy artifact.
“I found something,” he says breathlessly. “A location ping. The location ping was hidden beneath six layers of routing. Right after the security footage cuts, there is a connection to a private network that lasted for eleven seconds before the trace was cut.”
My pulse stutters. “Where?” I whisper. Axel flips the screen. A red dot blinks on the outskirts of Houston. A derelict industrial warehouse district. SableCorp has previously traced test shipments to this location.
I’m already grabbing my keys. Bjorn steps between me and the door. “No. Not alone.”
“Move,” I snarl.
“Absolutely not.”
“If you don’t fucking move…”
"Think, brother. Think. He snaps, "This is beyond us, and the outcome won't be the same as Grace's. Rushing in without us will get her killed.”
I stop breathing. Because I know he’s right. I just don’t know how to stop the part of me that wants to rip the world apart with my bare hands.
There’sa warehouse we have a lead on, so we go together at night in the rain. Our weapons are drawn; the rest of our brothers are behind Bjorn and me with surveillance equipment.
We breach the side door, and we see a lot of dust, empty crates, and metal. A smell like chemical antiseptic clinging to the walls. But not Claire. Just a ghost of something. A filing cabinet.
