Ella:
It had been a f*****g week. One full week since everything blew up in my face—since Colt found out, since Beckett warned me, since Raiden vanished like smoke in the wind.
Beckett won’t even look at me. He walks through the house like I don’t exist. The few times I try to talk, he’s out the door, slamming it behind him like my voice might poison the air.
Colt is worse. Angrier. Messier. Exploding every time our eyes meet. He’d shown up three nights ago just to shout in the driveway—about Raiden, about loyalty, about how I was throwing away everything for “a f*****g Phantom.” Then he peeled off into the night like it would burn him if he stayed. I hadn’t heard from him since.
And Raiden? A ghost.
Not a text. Not a knock. Not a trace.
I tried to be strong, to hold my chin high and
