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Another dead end.

Another. Dead. End.

If I keep coming up empty, I’m going to break something for real.

Frustration snaps. Before I can stop it, I slam my good fist into the weathered metal.

The jolt zings up my arm, sharp and satisfying. It feels good to hit something, so I decide to hit it again. I pull backto hit it a second time, but Jace catches my fist, palm closing around it before I can follow through.

“Are you trying to take out both your wrists? Maybe your ankles next?” His grip is firm but not crushing. “You’ve already got one sprained. I’m not carrying you back unless I need to. Tearing your body apart won’t find your sister any faster.”

“Every fucking lead is a dead end,” I snap.

My voice crackles. Weeks of searching, weeks of hope crashing into nothing.

“Every single one. She could be anywhere. She could be—” The words choke off before I can finish.

Jace’s eyes are calculating as he watches me, studying my face like he’s seeing something new.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch me like some shitty reality show?” I snap as embarrassment blooms beneath the anger.

Something shifts in his expression. Almost like relief. “It’s nice to see the real you.”

“I’ve never been anything but real. If you can’t see that, that’s on you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then his thumb brushes over my knuckles. The bruises are already starting to bloom.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “We’ll find her, Autumn. I promise.” One corner of his mouth lifts. “I’ve never made a promise I haven’t kept.”

The gentleness in his touch and the certainty in his voice cracks something loose in my chest. I manage a nod. I can’t trust my voice right now.

He lets go of my hand and looks around. “Well, we’re here anyway. Might as well check the area.”

“Where should we start?”

“This way.” He walks past the ticket counter, and I follow.

We move deeper into the station ruins, weaving betweencollapsed support beams and piles of debris. Jace leads the way, both of us scanning for clues. Fresh footprints, discarded items, signs of recent activity. Anything.

The silence stretches between us while we search, but it feels different now. Not cold. Not hostile. Quieter, maybe.

After several minutes of fruitless searching, I can’t stand the quiet anymore. He seems used to these long silences, so I break first. “You didn’t answer earlier,” I say, stepping over the crumbling edge of an old platform. “Your scar. What happened?”

“Told you. Fire happened.”

“We both know that’s not the whole story.”

He glances sideways at me with his dark brown eyes, but keeps walking.

“I know it’s none of my business, but?—”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

I stop. So does he. “All I’m trying to do is understand you.”

He exhales a sharp sigh, his head rolling back to look at me. His eyes are darker in the shadows and harder to read. Not that he’s been an open book to begin with. “Why, Autumn?”

“Because I care.”