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9
VINCENT
A month.
It’s been a fucking month since Skylar disappeared.
Batches of O have Omega blood in them, but none contain Skylar’s or April’s DNA.
I’m grateful to Ben; he’s kept me informed throughout the whole process. In the years I’ve known him, I’ve always been cold to him at best. Never friendlier than I needed to be.
But he’s still offering up information, more than what’s available to the public.
Omegas are being trafficked for their blood.
It’s a fucking nightmare.
Hundreds of witnesses have been interviewed, some by police, some by special government agencies, and some by Landon and River.
But I’m on my own with only one goal—to find Skylar.
I’m not employed by anyone—ever since I “retired,” I have no one to answer to.
So, I use all my free time investigating.
It took far too long for me to get access to security footage from April’s Café, but now that I finally have it, I can cross reference it to any sales from the day April disappeared.
My gut instinct says that finding out who took April will lead me to Skylar.
After all, she was the first disappearance.
“You don’t have to be doing all of this, you know,” Landon says as I stare at my laptop. I’m at Skylar’s kitchen counter, sitting on a stool and studying video footage. “We’ve got everyone working on these cases now. You don’t have to feel obligated.”
After the first week of her disappearance, I started staying at a local motel instead of going back to my apartment.
Something inside me has changed.
A month ago, I would have sworn I would never enter this line of work again.
But there’s a pull in my chest, an ache so intense that I have to do this for her.
I need to find her.
“I’m not obligated,” I mutter. I compile a list of customers from that day, then run background checks on them.
I can feel Landon watching me, and I turn my eyes away from my laptop. “What?” I ask.
There’s a peculiar expression on his face. We’re both drained, and he looks as exhausted as I feel, but there’s a knowing glint in his eye. “I’m glad you’re helping,” he says, shrugging. “It means a lot, you know. She’s important to me.”
Irrational jealousy flares in me. Landon spent time with her. Landon has seen her smile, held her…
“She’s important to me, too,” I mumble, turning my eyes back to the screen.
Which should be impossible, because we only spoke for a few minutes, and our conversation didn’t end well.
But I’ll be damned if I go back to my apartment without resolving this.
I need to.
