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Officer Donnelly frowns. “And what’s Kyle Pearson's connection to you besides being the one working on your case with you?”

I can feel my blood pressure spike at the question because he knows every detail I’ve reported.

“He’s the one stalking Ryder,” I grit out. “He’s the one who’s been sending him emails. Watching him, or us now, I suppose. He broke into Ryder’s house and left a fucking note inside his office, as you know. We first met him at Pine Bar in town weeks ago.” My chest rises and falls too fast, adrenaline still burning through my system. “And now Ryder’s missing.”

My chest rises and falls too fast, adrenaline burningthrough me like I’m still in that parking garage, bleeding out, trying to get to Ryder.

That makes Santos pause. He glances at Donnelly before flipping to a new page in his notebook. “Missing? How do you know that?”

“He hasn’t answered his phone in a day. He’d never blatantly ignore my parents’ phone calls. I had to go to the office yesterday, and he was worried about being alone. There’s no way Kyle stabbed me and didn’t go after Ryder. He stole my keys; that’s one of the last things I remember before passing out. There’s no world where Ryder wouldn’t be here right now if he could. I know Kyle did something. I know it.”

The detective’s expression darkens. “And you think Kyle Pearson is responsible for that, too?”

“I know he is.”

Donnelly speaks up. “Has Pearson made any direct threats?”

“Yes. His last email was the most threatening. He said that if we didn’t stop ‘being together,’ we wouldn’t want to find out what happens. That he’d hate to see either of us get hurt, and it was our last warning.”

This isn’t exactly the time or place I had planned to tell my mom about our relationship, but she’ll interpret that however she wants.

Santos nods, flipping his notepad shut. “Alright, Mr. Hart. We’re going to need you to walk us through exactly what happened yesterday. Every detail. And while we do that, we’ll get officers over to Ryder’s house to check whether he’s there.”

I exhale, my pulse still pounding, but at least someone isfinallylistening.

“Ryder’s been staying with me since this whole thing started. He was at my apartment before I left, and I highly doubt he would’ve gone home. My dad is on his way to my apartment now to see if he’s there, though.”

I never should’ve left. I should’ve explained to HR how dire the situation was instead of thinking cameras would be enough.

Wait, the cameras!

“Mom, where’s my phone? I need it.”

“It’s right here,” she says, as she grabs it from the table beside the bed and hands it to me.

My fingers fumble with the passcode before I manage to unlock it. The hospital’s shitty Wi-Fi crawls as I open the security app. I mutter under my breath, “Come on, come on...” like rushing the load screen will make the feed appear faster.

The dashboard finally appears, and it says, ‘offline.’

Offline.

They’re all fucking offline. He must have hacked into the system and shut them down so there’d be no proof of him at the apartment. I refresh the app, trying again, but nothing changes, no matter how many times I try.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss, my hand tightening around the phone.

He heard the officer tell us to install cameras. He was standing right there.Of course, he knew to check. I’m so goddamn stupid for thinking it would actually stop him or lead to the proof we needed.

I knew Kyle was dangerous, and I walked right into his trap like an idiot...and left Ryder alone to deal with it. I clench my jaw so hard it hurts.

I don’t know how I’ll live with myself if somethinghappens to Ryder. I love him with every fiber of my being. I love him in a way that makes words feel useless. In a way that makes everything before him feel like a placeholder. I love him in a way that makes me ache for every second I wasted pretending I didn’t.

He has to be okay because I have to tell him that. He has to know how much I love him.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, trying to pull it together, but the second I open them, the cops are still staring at me.

But before I can open my mouth to speak, Mom’s phone rings.

She fumbles for it, answering on the second ring. “Jim?”