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“Yes? Did you get something?” I ask.

Santos’s deep voice fills the line. “A neighbor heard noises around one yesterday afternoon. Said it sounded like an altercation, but they didn’t check.”

I sit up so fast that the pain slices through my side again. “They didn’t fucking do anything?” I hiss.

“No,” he says, “which, unfortunately, is very common. A lot of people hear a commotion but don’t want to get involved, or they second-guess themselves. Sometimes it feels safer to do nothing, which is a sad reality.” He sighs. “They said they were scared of calling the cops over nothing or starting an issue with their neighbor.”

Someone heard him. Someone was right there, feet away while Kyle was dragging Ryder out of our fucking apartment and they didn’t do a goddamn thing. They just sat there, afraid to call the cops over nothing.

Nothing.

I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a deep breath, but that only makes it worse. My brain’s already filling in the gaps—picturing Ryder fighting, yelling, maybe even begging for his life—while some fucking neighbor sat on their couch, debating whether it’s worth dialing three fucking numbers.

And they didn’t.

And now Ryder’s gone.

Rationally, I know I shouldn’t be upset with them. Maybe I would’ve done the same thing in their position. I’ll never know, but right now, being rational isn’t on my list of concerns.

“Did anyone else see anything? Outside, even?”

“No. We’re sorry, Logan. It was the middle of the day—seems most of your neighbors weren’t home.”

This doesn’t give us anything, but I know Kyle was the reason for the altercation, and I know he took Ryder.

“I know he took him. Even without any eyewitnesses, I know. So, how are you going to find him?”

“Well,” Santos says slowly, “here’s the other thing. There’s been pushback from a higher-up.”

My stomach twists. “What? From who?”

He hesitates. “The guy who brought Kyle in as a consultant. He’s—well, he’s not happy about this.”

“You’re telling me some asshole who hired Kyle is more worried about his reputation or his relationship with a stalker and kidnapper, oh and not to mention the person who fucking stabbed me than finding Ryder? The innocent person they’re supposed to serve and protect?”

“He’s vouching for Kyle,” Santos admits. “Calling him a ‘professional’ and claiming you’re making baseless accusations.Just between us, he knows Kyle personally—and he wants us to stop looking.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I yell out in rage.

“If you’re positive Kyle’s the one who stabbed you, we’ll keep searching. We’re on your side, Logan,” Santos says, voice firm. “But they’re trying to slow this down. They don’t like this at all, but we do want to help you.”

I let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Well, tell him to go fuck himself.”

“Logan,” Mom warns gently from the chair in the room.

I ignore her, my patience snapping clean in half. “No, I’m serious,” I bite out. “Tell him to go fuck himself, because Ryder is gone, and I know exactly who took him. So either he gets his head out of his ass, or he can watch while we take legal action against your entire department for letting a goddamn stalker have free reign. Oh! And let’s not forget attempted murder so he could kidnap my fucking boyfriend.”

“Look, we’re on it, okay? We’re on your side, Logan,” Santos huffs. “I just wanted to update you. I’ll call you again as soon as we have more.”

This time, he hangs up, and my head is clouded with frustration. I need to get the fuck out of here.

And if Kyle so much as lays a finger on him?—

I’m going to kill him. And it won’t be an attempt.

27

RYDER