“Thank you for being candid, Detective,” Chace replies, his tone ice cold.
I can't hear anymore.
I fold in on myself, clutching my middle like I can hold myself together if I just press hard enough.
But inside, I’m breaking.
The female officer leans closer, her tone gentler now, but no less urgent.
“Think,” she says, looking between me, Sam, and Chace. “Is there anywhere she might take Logan? Somewhere that means something to her? A place that wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary—somewhere personal.”
My grip tightens around my phone, my knuckles aching. Her gaze settles on me like she knows I’m the one who might have the answer.
“Even the smallest detail,” she adds. “Anything you can give us.”
I rack my brain, heart pounding. Every memory of Lola crashes into me at once, but nothing sticks. Nothing makes sense.
I shake my head, the motion weak, useless. “I don’t know,” I whisper, the words like ash in my mouth. “I don’t know where she’d take him.”
But something claws at the back of my mind, and I latch onto it with shaking hands. “She took my brother’s journal. A few days ago. She came to my house—asked to use the toilet—and I let her. I didn’t think twice. But when she left… it was gone. One minute it was on his bed, the next—it just… vanished.”
I blink hard, but the tears slip free anyway.
“I don’t know what she wanted with it. I don’t know what it meant to her. I don’t know where she’s taken him.”
My voice cracks on every word, and when I look at the officer—at the steady, unreadable calm in her eyes—I just break.
“I don’t…” My breath hitches. “I… Please. Please, I’m begging you…”
I press a hand to my mouth, trying to hold back the sob that rips its way up my throat.
“Please don’t let her hurt him. He’s everything. He’s everything I have left.”
Silence stretches, thick and hollow.
Sam’s hand settles on my back, firm and grounding. He doesn’t say a word, but the way his thumb moves in small, slow circles is enough to keep me from falling apart completely. Chace stands on my other side, jaw tight, eyes glassy. He scrubs a hand over his face, then fists it at his side like he wants to punch a wall—or someone.
The officer crouches a little, bringing herself level with me.
“We won’t stop until we find him,” she says quietly, but there’s steel in her voice. “And we’ll do everything we can to make sure he comes back to you safe.”
I nod, even though I don’t know how to believe it.
But right now, hope is all I have.
Chapter 28
Logan
My eyes flutter open, blurry and unfocused. A hammer pounds inside my skull—thick, relentless, unbearable. Something rough presses against my mouth, biting into my skin. Gagged. My hands and feet are bound tight with zip ties, the cold plastic digging mercilessly into my wrists and ankles. I’m sitting upright, cramped inside metal. The curved shape beneath me—Braden’s Dodge Charger.
The air around me is thick, sharp with the acrid bite of gasoline. It stings my nose like a punch, mixed with something sweeter, almost chemical—poisonous. My stomach twists in protest.
The garage door creaks open. She appears—Lola. Her eyes wild, hair tangled and wild, reeking of fuel like she just rolled through a gas station. Gun in hand, she steps into the dim light.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she says, voice sharp, manic.
For a moment, I’m sure I’m still dreaming—until she laughs. A high, brittle sound that echoes coldly off the walls.
