DAXTON POV
The old basketball court looked desolate in the midday sun, its cracked concrete and faded paint telling stories of games long forgotten. We had been here before, back when life was simpler—just two brothers with a ball, no worries, no goddamn kidnappers stealing the most important person from our lives. But today, the place carried a different weight. The air was dry and stifling, the kind that clung to your skin and made breathing feel like a chore.
It had been 18 hours since Maria was taken. Eighteen hours since that damned white van vanished, and every second without her felt like a thousand needles stabbing my chest. My fifth cup of coffee from earlier still buzzed in my system, but it did nothing to dull the ache or sharpen my frayed nerves.
Henry stood a few feet awa
