*Sera’s POV*
The rain is louder now, drumming against the kitchen windows like impatient fingers. Every few minutes a car passes on the street and my head snaps toward the sound, heart slamming against my ribs, certain this time it will be a police cruiser with flashing lights, certain this time they’ll have her in the back seat wrapped in a scratchy blanket, safe.
Every time it’s just headlights sliding past, and the hope collapses again.
I’m sitting on the floor with my back against the cabinets, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped around them so tightly my nails dig into my own skin. The floor is cold through my jeans. I don’t care. I barely feel it. All I feel is the hole where Aria should be—sharp-edged, growing wider with every minute that passes without her voice, without her
