Morning light filtered through the living room curtains, but it brought no comfort. I hadn't slept since waking at 2:33 AM.
I'd spent the remaining hours curled on the couch, staring at the front door, willing it to open and reveal Lucian's familiar silhouette.
It never did.
Now, at 7:15 AM, the panic that had been simmering beneath my skin all night finally boiled over.
"Where is he?" The words tore from my throat, raw and desperate. "Where the hell is Lucian?"
Freya sat beside me. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her hands trembled as she reached for me. "Maeve, you need to breathe—"
"Don't tell me to breathe!" I shot to my feet, my entire body vibrating with terror and fury. "He's been gone for over nine hours, Freya. Nine hours! Something's wrong. Something's really, really wrong."
Mom appeared in the doorway, still in her robe, her face etched with worry. "Honey, maybe we should call the police—"
