“She probably didn’t do it herself.”
That sinks in like a knife to the gut.
Natalie didn’t turn off her phone. Rose did.
I grit my teeth, swallowing down a surge of panic that doesn’t belong to the man I used to be. That man would’vehandled this with strategy. With calculation. With cold, flawless execution.
But that man never loved anyone. That man never had anything to lose.
“She said her name,” I whisper, looking at my mother. “She said ‘Rose.’ And you let her go.”
My mother blanches, and instantly I regret it. The fear on her face is real.
“I didn’t know,” she says. “I didn’t know who she was, Ethan. She looked harmless. I thought it was a friend?—”
“It’s not your fault,” Jake says quickly. “No one could’ve guessed.”
ButIshould have.
I should’ve known Rose wouldn’t stay gone, that she wouldn’t stay away from me after all the restraining orders served to her. I should’ve guessed that it was Rose behind everything. Her family has enough money and influence.
I should’ve had someone with Natalie at all times. But I’ve been distracted. I’ve been wrapped up in wanting to give Natalie peace, space, something resembling normal.
And now she’s gone.
A breath shakes out of me. “She must have seen me with Natalie. She must’ve known we were together. If she finds out about the baby?—”
God.
I feel sick.
I close my eyes, dragging a hand over my face as the storm swells inside me. Every instinct is screaming. Every dark part of me—the ruthless parts I’ve buried—are clawing their way to the surface. I’ll tear the city apart to find her if I have to. I’ll burn it down.
She’s mine.
And no one—no one—takes her from me.
“Get the car,” I tell Jake. “We’re not waiting. I want every asset we have turned to finding her. Now.”
He’s already moving.
And I promise myself this: Whatever Rose thinks she’s going to get from me—revenge, attention, obsession, power…
She’s going to regret it.
Because I’ve never fought for anything the way I’ll fight for Natalie. And I will find her.
No matter what it takes.
The car screechesonto the highway, tires struggling for grip on the slush-covered asphalt as Jake punches the gas. Salt and grime spray up from the wheels of cars ahead of us, coating the windshield. I'm in the passenger seat, fists clenched, heart hammering so hard it shakes my whole body. The heater blasts but can't chase away the chill that has nothing to do with the December cold.
Roland's in the back, stiff and silent, one hand pressed against his side where he's still healing, his heavy coat making him look even more fragile against the leather seats. I don’t care that he should be in a hospital bed. I don’t care about anything except getting to Natalie.
“She’s still there,” Derrick’s voice sounds through the speaker. “I’m sending units there. Don’t do anything rash, Ethan.”
I ignore him.
The worst part is the calm. Like the world outside doesn’t realize Natalie’s been stolen out of it. Like everything’s normal when it’s not.
