“This chasing ghosts and rumours has already put us in a worse position.”
I grunt and Angel looks back at me.
“I know you want to find her.”
He leans forward slightly.
“But even if you found her right now…” He pauses, like he’s not sure how to say what comes next. “What would you say to make her come back?”
I stare at the table, because I don’t know.
“And even if she did,” Angel adds quietly, “we still don’t know what the fuck is going on in this club.”
His gaze drifts toward the house.
“We have to fix our house before she will ever feel safe.” A long pause. “And she shouldn’t. Not now.”
My throat tightens because he’s right.
“I can’t just sit here,” I say. “I need to know she’s safe.” My voice drops, the words hard coming out, “I need to know someone didn’t…”
Angel nods, “We’ll be smart.”
His voice steadies.
“We’ll use our resources the right way, like we should have...” He looks me in the eye. “We’ll find her.”
The sound of a truck pulling up cuts through the moment. Torch steps out a minute later, with grease on his hands, expression tight. The prospect following behind him, head hanging, eyes locked on his feet.
My stomach sinks.
“Well?” Four asks.
Torch wipes his hands on a rag.
“It wasn’t a breakdown.”
The air around the table shifts and my pulse spikes.
“What do you mean?”
Torch tosses the rag onto the table.
“Someone tampered with the car.”
My stomach drops straight through the floor.
“What?” I breathe out.
Torch crosses his arms.
“The fuel line was cut. They tried to make it look like it just happened, but the cut was too clean.”
The silence feels like it's choking me until Torch adds, “She didn’t choose to abandon it.”
My vision goes blurry, red at the edges.
“And I think she left the car on foot.” He pulls out a phone I recognizefrom his back pocket, “She wouldn't have been able to call anyone, I found it under the driver’s seat.”