The door was half hanging off its hinges, cracked wood splintering across the floor. Shards of the broken lock lay scattered like glass, but there was no sign of a struggle, no overturned furniture, no missing valuables. The damage was deliberate—and the one who did it stood in the middle of the room, trembling.
Misa's breath came fast, her chest heaving as she clutched her phone to her ear.
"Pick up… come on, pick up!" she muttered, pacing across the living room. The phone finally clicked, and Amanda's voice came through, calm but sharp.
"Misa? What happened? Why are you calling me this late?"
"He's not here!" Misa shouted before Amanda could say another word. "He's not here, Amanda!"
Amanda's tone shifted instantly. "Okay, okay, calm down. What do you mean he's not there? What's going on?"
"I said he's not here!" Misa's voice cracked as she spun toward the hallway. "He is missing!"
