Milo
Leone said he put Fallon in the car; I open the door and find it empty. Moving to the next car, it’s the same. I peer around and Leone, catching sight of me, points to the correct one and I wander over. For one second, everything holds: the headlights cut through the night, the forest’s pulse on pause. Then—one blink, and the rear door’s flung open, empty.
“Where the f**k—Fallon!” My voice is way too loud for 4:00 AM. Subtlety’s dead and buried. I spin in a full circle, half-expecting her to materialize from the smoky air.
She doesn’t.
Instead, Leone’s now wrestling Nathan, who’s half-collapsed and trying to crawl toward Rebecca, who’s being scooped up by one of Santos’s guys and Rocco. I catch sight of a blur—a pale, raw-footed comet racing into the trees.
“Fallon!” I yell, and
