Jonas’ POV
The feeling of having arrived too late wouldn’t go away.
It didn’t matter how many times I replayed the events, or how many explanations I tried to build to justify what had happened in that house; the image of Callie turning around and walking away without looking back remained fixed, uncomfortable—like a c***k that refused to close. It wasn’t just that she had left, but how she had done it, with a determination that made it clear she wasn’t reacting—she was choosing. And that, more than reassuring me, made everything far more complicated.
We had been running for hours.
Not in a reckless way, not like a desperate chase, but with that precision that only comes when instinct and experience work together—following traces that would be invisible to anyone else, but to us were c
