“Track them,” I say. My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It sounds empty. Dead.
Dom’s expression sharpens. He doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t waste one fucking second. He drops into a chair, laptop open before he fully sits, fingers moving fast. “Olivia and Eli?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Logan comes out of his office. “What happened?”
No one answers fast enough.
I look at him. “Eli took her out.”
Logan’s jaw locks. He doesn’t ask why. Not yet. That comes later if there is a later. “Dom,” he snaps.
“Already on it.”
I call Olivia again.
Nothing.
Eli.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Each unanswered ring peels something else off me. Control. Patience. Reason. All the thin layers that keep me human in rooms where people I care about stand too close.
Dom’s eyes flick over the screen. “Got Olivia’s phone.”
“Where?”
“Parking lot. Dawson’s Market off Route 9.”
I’m already moving.
Dom’s voice follows. “Wait.”
I stop so hard the floor might as well crack under my boots. “What?”
“Eli’s phone is there too.”
Silence.
Then Logan says, “Are they moving?”
Dom’s face tightens. “No.”
My chest goes still. Not breathing. Not thinking.
“Phones have been stationary for…” Dom checks the timestamp. “Forty-eight minutes.”
Forty-eight fucking minutes.
