Locke was still missing.
He was stillgone.
I kissed Orla’s temple and rose from the bed, leaving her alone while I forced myself into a cold shower to wake me the fuck up.
She was on the landing when I emerged. She thrust clean clothes at me. “You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Please? For me? Nash, I can’t lose you both—” She pursed her trembling lips and something inside me broke.
I grabbed her and pressed her against the wall, smothering her tears with a kiss so desperate I tasted blood.
Mine.
Hers.
At this point, it was all the same, our hearts beating as one for the man we loved so much, and it was my turn to stareherdown, facing the fear we couldn’t let win. “You’re not losing him—we’renot losing him.”
“What if we already have?”
“No.” I put a hand to her chest. “You’d feel it. We both would. This pain is because we miss him, because welovehim, and we need him to come home.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“He will. I promise, Orls. We’re gonna find him.”
There was nothing left to say. I dressed in the clothes she’d brought me—my jeans, Cam’s T-shirt, and a hoodie so old I couldn’t remember. Saint’s, maybe? Did he even own clothes?
The socks were Locke’s. They hugged my feet, wrapping them in warmth I didn’t feel anywhere else. I crouched a moment, transfixed by the sensation.
Then it was time to go.
In the yard, Saint, Ranger, and Mateo waited for me. None of them looked rested, signs of strain thick and heavy in every man before me.
Mateo wore it worst. He pressed a roll of Embry’s Polos into my hand. “You need some sugar, brother.”
I needed more than that, but sensing Orla’s stare on me, I took it, ripped the foil, and palmed a handful into my mouth.
Chewed them like I was eating fucking glass and I considered spitting them out, but another all-seeing gaze caught my attention.
Lida.
She lay at the bunkhouse doors, nose on her paws, her depthless eyes fixed on me. What she was trying to say, I had no fucking clue, but I swallowed the mints, booted my kickstand, and rumbled away without looking back.
* * *
It was another long night. We searched the whole county but found nothing, despite Folk and Alexei pulling an eighteen-hour shift because neither one of them would accept Cam’s order to go home.
We wound up at the beach at Berrydown Bay, neutral ground between our turf and land that had once been Crow territory.
Folk stood in the sea, the waves at his waist, staring up at the cliffs he’d quit jumping from when he’d fallen for Decoy.
Saint crouched at the water’s edge, watching the foam lap over his hands, while Mateo sat with me on the damp sand, brooding and silent, waiting on Ranger and Alexei to catch us up.
Mateo passed me a smoke. Other than that, he left me alone, and I was equal parts grateful and tortured by the space he gave me to drown in my thoughts. I believed every word I’d said to Orla before we’d left, but fate was working against us. Wherever we looked, we found signs of recent activity, but every step of the way, we were too fucking late.
“Why doesn’t Locke’s bike have a tracker?”