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Dallas

February 3rd

It’s beendays since Nash told me about the website. About the pictures. About Faith’s face being used as a prop to tell the world she’s fine.

And I’ve done what I always do when something hurts too much: I’ve tried to pack it away into a box and nail the lid shut.

Doesn’t work.

Not when Lila keeps asking about her. Not when I keep catching myself looking at the road, waiting for her headlights. Not when every quiet moment is a punishment.

I’ve stopped calling her every day.

That’s what I told myself was the healthy choice. The moving on choice.

It’s more like sawing off my own arm.

I’m staring down at a stack of invoices when the office door slams open hard enough to rattle the frame.

Rose.

She’s breathless, cheeks flushed, hair coming loose from her braid.

For a split second, my chest tightens. Panic, hope, dread, all tangled together.

“Rose?” I push to my feet. “What’s wrong?”

She crosses the room in three strides and shoves her phone toward me with a shaking hand.

“Dallas,” she croaks. “It’s Faith.”

My entire body goes still.

That name hits like a gunshot in a quiet room. My ears ring. My vision narrows. All the air in my lungs disappears.

“What do you mean?” I manage.

Rose swallows hard, eyes glossy. “I got a message. From her father’s business account. It came through ten minutes ago.”

I take the phone with hands that suddenly don’t feelmine.

My thumb hovers over the screen.

Part of me is terrified to look.

Because I’ve been living in a world where every hint of Faith is either a lie or a knife. A smiling photo. A website listing.

But this… This is direct.

I read.

And the ranch tilts under my feet.

Rose. Please. I don’t have my phone. I can’t call. I’m not alone. Ever. I’m being watched. I can’t do this anymore. I need out. Can you tell Dallas? Please tell him I’m sorry. Please tell him I’m scared.

My vision blurs so fast I have to blink hard.

The message is simple, and that’s what makes it terrifying. This isn’t a misunderstanding. This is what my gut has been screaming since the first night she didn’t show up at the porch.