Ozzy moves fast, sliding closer, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his chest.
I resist for half a heartbeat out of pride. Then I crumble into him because I’m so tired of holding myself alone.
Ozzy’s hand cups the back of my head. “I don’t know, Salem.”
My voice is muffled against his skin. “This is so messed up.”
“I know,” he murmurs.
I swallow hard, blinking against the sting in my eyes. “So my mother is on vacation, and my father—my father exists, apparently—and I’m just… I’m just finding out now?”
Ozzy holds me tighter. “I’m sorry.”
I lift my head, eyes burning. “Is he… is he a good person?”
Ozzy’s expression turns unreadable. “I don’t know yet.” That’s the worst answer. Because it leaves room for anything. And my life has taught me not to hope. Hope is just the first step toward humiliation. But still, something in my chest—tiny and stubborn—wants to believe this man didn’t rescue me for selfish reasons.
That he didn’t pay to save me out of guilt or fear or image. That he paid because he wanted me alive.
I whisper, “Can I talk to him?”
Ozzy’s face tightens.
My stomach sinks before he even speaks.
Ozzy’s voice is quiet. “That’s the thing.”
I go still. “What thing?”
“We can’t reach him,” Ozzy says. “Dean’s been trying. No answer. No response.”
My throat tightens. “Maybe he’s busy.”
Ozzy’s eyes hold mine, steady and grim. “Maybe.”
My voice shakes. “What do you mean maybe?”
Ozzy exhales slowly. “He might be missing.”
The air leaves my lungs. Or worse, my brain supplies, because my brain is cruel.
Ozzy doesn’t say it aloud, but his eyes do. He might be dead. Something cold and focused clicks into place inside me.
I sit up abruptly, the blanket falling to my lap. My hands shake, but my voice comes out sharp. “Then we need to find him.”
Ozzy’s brows lift. “Salem?—”
“No,” I say, cutting him off, surprising even myself. “If he hired you—if he paid to get me out—he knows something. He has to. He had to know where I was, or who took me, or how to reach Maddox Security. He knowssomething.”
Ozzy watches me like he’s measuring the steel in my spine.
My voice steadies. “I’m done being the girl bad things happen to. If my father is real and he’s missing, then we find him.”
Ozzy’s gaze darkens, something proud and protective flaring. “You don’t even know him.”
“Exactly,” I snap. “And somehow he’s still the only one who tried to save me.” The words hang there. They’re heavy.
Ozzy’s jaw clenches, anger flickering. “Yeah.”