DANTE
A week.
One fucking week since Oleander left the pack house.
I had sent men to comb through the forest, and they were still searching.
Even though it was still early, I mean it was only just a week. Enough time to search for her. I could not shake the feeling that we would not find her this time.
The last time, someone tipped us off about where she might be. An anonymous message. I had been staring at my phone for days, hoping it would light up the way it had then, hoping for a text that would reveal her location. But nothing.
The worst part? Havoc was silent. He had not warned me. Not once. He used to. He always did. Now he felt distant, like he had decided to leave me to deal with the consequences of my own actions.
And I hated it. I hated that I had no one else to talk to, to argue with, to make me feel better in all of these situations.
"Merry Christmas Eve."
