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“They’re clean,” one of the guards announces.
I push away from the wall, barely restraining myself from punching the closest motherfucker.
Cindy—bless her soul—is still standing behind us, filming everything.
“You better pray I don’t find you later,” I swear at the guard who stopped us.
“We had a report. I had to—”
I don’t even bother listening. My feet are already flying over the floor. The metal door slams into the concrete wall with a clang and bounces back. It clanks a second time. Jigsaw’s heavy boot thunder behind me.
It’s intermission. Shelby’s offstage. People swarm into the aisles, blocking our way. I’m forced to slow to a maddening walk-push pace.
Bang!
I crash through the second door leading backstage. So many damn people in the way now. Crew are breaking down Shelby’s set and setting up Thundersmoke’s equipment. I blow past all of them.
“Logan! What’s wrong?”
Trent’s nothing more than a blur. I don’t stop to answer. Jiggy and I pick up speed as we move past the activity near the entrance to the stage.
My gaze lasers in on Shelby’s dressing room door. Slightly ajar. No Bane. No one in the immediate area at all.
Above us, the ceiling rumbles with sounds from Thundersmoke’s show. Fine, everyone’s probably up there watching, but Bane should still be here.
“Thought he was still watching her?” Jigsaw says.
“He should be.”
I slam the door all the way open. The knob smashes into the drywall. A small part of my brain yells “take it easy” but the rest of my body disagrees. If something has happened to Shelby, I can’t waste a precious second.
“Shelby?”
I rush into the room, my mind cataloging small details.
Piles of clothes dumped on the couch. More clothes scattered by the bedroom.
My fist hits the cheap wood door. “Shelby!”
No answer.
I shove the door open.
My gaze pings around the small room. My brain processes the scene too slowly.
Open window.
Water bottle on the floor.
Shelby’s smashed phone.
The dress she wore onstage crumpled in a heap.
No Shelby.
My instincts scream at me to run.
Find her.
“Shelby!” I shout.
She’s gone.
