Alina’s POV
Twenty-four hours after Maddox left, the compound felt like it was holding its breath.
No one had heard from him. His phone went straight to voicemail. The trackers on his bike showed him somewhere on the outskirts of the city, but he wasn’t moving, wasn’t responding, wasn’t coming back. Ronan had people checking his usual haunts—bars, safe houses, contacts in the underground—but so far, nothing.
And I felt like I was slowly being crushed under the weight of knowing it was my fault.
“We need to make a decision about Hart,” Ronan said, spreading documents across the war room table. He spoke in a calm, detached manner, as if we weren’t falling apart at the seams. “Reports indicate he’s gathering resources. We have maybe seventy-two hours before he makes his move.”
Jaxon stoo
