Damian
The map on my desk was a sea of red pins, each one a silent mockery of our failures. I traced the routes we'd searched, my fingers trembling slightly from exhaustion and too much caffeine.
"Any news?" I asked Ethan, my voice rough with exhaustion. He sat slumped in a chair, dark circles prominent under his eyes, mirroring my own fatigue.
Ethan shook his head, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Nothing yet, man. We've combed every inch of the forest around Widow's Cliff. If she's out there, we'll find her."
I slammed my fist on the desk, the wood creaking in protest. "It's been days, Ethan. She could be hurt, or-" I couldn't bring myself to finish the thought.
"We found her scent at the cliff's edge," I said, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "And signs of a strug
