The same night:
The streets were packed with a crowd, enjoying the Friday night when Clyde finally found the bar Emile had described over the phone. His shoes clicked sharply against the ground as he strode up to the entrance, his body tense.
The moment he pushed the heavy door open, the din of laughter, clicking glasses, and muffled music hit him. Clyde's eyes scanned the dimly lit interior, looking left and right, searching for any trace of that silver hair. His chest constricted when he found no trace of Micah.
Instead, he spotted his nephew, Emile, moving through the crowd, expression pale and anxious.
"Little Uncle!" Emile called, breathless as he reached him. "I can't find him!"
Clyde's heart pounded violently. "How could you leave him alone?" The words came out colder and harsher than he intended, but the fear beneath his anger was suffocating.
"He said he was going to the restroom..." Emile's voice trailed off as he noticed Clyde's expression darkening further.
