A small pendant.
Amara's
It was the one she always wore. A little silver charm in the shape of a star.
His fingers closed around it, and for a moment, his eyes burned with unshed tears.
She dropped it.
A message. A breadcrumb. Something to say: we were here. Keep looking.
He stood and faced the team. “I want every gas station, every road camera in a fifty-mile radius flagged. Get the footage. Pull traffic data. Bribe whoever you have to.”
Raul nodded. “Already on it.”
“And the moment you get a lead,” Damien said, slipping the charm into his pocket, “you tell me first.”
“Yes, sir.”
Damien turned away from them, back to the center of the room, and just stood there.
The place still held the warmth of their presence—barely. The ghosts of their voices lingered. Sera’s giggle. Amara’
