Callum's POV
The ride back was quiet. Not the peaceful kind—but the kind that sat heavy in your gut. The kind that made your chest ache like you'd swallowed a stone.
Julian was gripping the steering wheel like it had insulted him. Sebastian sat in the back, pacing through texts and calls, trying not to look as worried as he sounded.
And me?
I just stared out the window, jaw tight, fists tighter.
Elena was missing.
Gone.
And I hated how familiar this feeling was.
We pulled into Julian's house and stepped out fast—like movement could drown out the panic.
"I'll get the evidence to your guy," I said, holding up the pouch of blood I'd found outside the warehouse. "We'll know in a few hours."
Julian nodded once. "Thanks."
I didn't say you're welcome.
Didn't need to.
We were past politeness now.
This was war.
---
We gathered around Julian's kitchen island. Floor plans, phone logs, and security footage were scattered like a puzzle missing its edges.
