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“He wouldn’t have just left,” I murmur. “You know that. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere without telling me, without his fucking phone?—”

“I know, which makes this next part harder to say, son.”

I brace myself, unsure what he’s about to say, but knowing it’s going to be bad.

“It looks like there was some struggle. A few things are out of place and knocked over.”

My breath picks up, and the air in this room feels like it’s suffocating me. My chest moves erratically, and I can’t calm down.

“Logan,” Mom’s voice cuts through, but I can’tunderstand what she’s saying. “Logan, honey, you’ve got to calm down.”

I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t do anything except spiral. My chest stammers, rising and falling in short, uneven bursts. I can’t slow it down. My hands tremble as my vision narrows, and everything around me feels louder and farther away all at once. I can’t catch a single thought. Just flashes of Ryder, Kyle, the cameras, his phone. Him gone.

Gone.

The thoughts won’t stop. The what-ifs. The fucking certainty that Ryder is gone and that Kyle took him. That he’s alone and scared and I?—

I wasn't there. I let this happen.

Fuck my job. It’s never been worth more than Ryder, and yet I made him feel like it was—especially during the most stressful, terrifying time of our lives.

A gasping sob tears out of me. Fuck. What do I do? My lungs refuse to expand, my chest caves in, my head is too fucking light and?—

“Logan.”

I barely register Mom grabbing my face, forcing me to look at her. Her hands are warm, steady, but it’s not helping. “Breathe, honey,” she urges, her voice shaking. “Slow down. Breathe.”

But I can’t. Doesn’t she get that? I can’t calm down. I can’t. The panic has its claws too deep in me now, its grip tightening with every second that ticks by.

The heart monitor beside me starts to beep faster, and a nurse bursts through the door a moment later, already moving toward the bed.

“What’s going on?” she asks sharply, glancing between Mom and the screen. She adjusts the oxygen tubing near myface and raises the bed slightly. “Logan, I need you to slow your breathing, okay? You’re safe. You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”

But I’m not okay. Ryder is missing.

Kyle has Ryder, I know it with every fiber of my being. I don’t even realize I’m saying his name over and over until Mom grabs me and pulls me into a hug.

“You have to calm down,” she pleads. “We will find him, Logan. I promise you, we will, but you need to breathe. You can’t help him like this.”

The nurse is still beside me, monitoring the screen, her hand firm but gentle on my shoulder. “That’s it,” she says softly. “Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’re doing good. There you go.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Try to force air in, then out, even though my lungs feel like they’re made of cement.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

I can’t continue to fall apart. Not when Ryder needs me. Not when he could be out there fighting for his life.

My breath finally starts to even out and the monitor slows with me. I sit up straighter, grounding myself, and find my voice again.

“I need to go,” I say, already throwing the blanket off me. Pain shoots through my side once again, but I don’t care. I shove myself up, my vision tilting, black spots dancing at the edges. Mom is by my side in an instant, her hands pressing down on my shoulders.

“Logan, stop,” my mom demands. “You are not leaving this hospital.”