First, he had to get rid of the body.
The key slid into the trunk lock. His grip was tight, fingers stiff.
He hesitated for only a second. Then he turned it.
The latch popped with a quiet click.
Wyatt lifted the trunk.
And froze.
It was empty.
No body. No blood.
Nothing.
His breath stalled in his throat.
His hands went rigid on the edge of the trunk, the world narrowing to the impossible sight in front of him.
No.
No, that wasn’t right.
He took a step closer, his mind scrambling. He ran his fingers along the lining, checking the edges, the corners, even lifted the spare tire compartment.
Nothing.
Like it had never been there at all.
His heartbeat slammed against his ribs.
He knew what he saw.
The body had been here.
But now?
Now, it was gone.
Wyatt inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, but his pulse was a roaring drum in his ears.
Someone had been here.
Someone had moved it.
But who?
And more importantly—why?
His fingers curled into fists at his sides.
This wasn’t just a warning anymore.
This was a game.
And someone had just made their first move.