“f**k, f**k, fuck.”
Ethan’s voice cracked as he slammed his palm against the dashboard—once, twice, over and over—like every hit might rewind time.
“I should have listened to her when she called,” he choked out. “Tobias, she sounded scared and I brushed her off.”
“Ethan.” I grabbed his wrist mid-swing. “Calm down.”
He was breathing too fast, his chest rising like he was drowning. He tried to take the wheel, but the way he was shaking, I knew—if he drove, we would crash before we ever found her.
“Let me think,”
"She’s going to die, and it’s all my—"
"Ethan, Calm the f**k down and let me think." I snapped, louder than I meant to. But it worked. He froze, fists trembling against his knees.
“Did she tell you where she was?” I asked.
“No,” he said, dragging both hands through his hair
