Zane had not planned to come here. In fact, he had spent the entire morning trying to convince himself not to. Not to chase her. Not to send another message. Not to call again knowing the call would only disappear into voicemail like the forty-nine before it. Not to drive past every place she had ever mentioned as if she might suddenly appear on the sidewalk like a ghost who had forgotten where she belonged.
But desperation had its own gravity, and Willow had become the center of his universe whether he liked it or not. By noon, every rational thought had burned itself out. What remained was one relentless truth that kept pounding through his skull in a slow brutal rhythm.
Victor might know where she is. The man was always around her. Quiet. Observant. Too controlled. Too present.
