Chapter 21

Twenty-One

Liam’s words haunted me as I walked across campus, fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms. You don’t get to ruin her anymore.

I’d heard the defiance in his voice, the finality, but I refused to let it end there. He thought he could take her away from me, hide her like she wasn’t mine—like she didn’t belong to me.

My steps quickened until I was practically running, my mind spinning with possibilities. If Liam wasn’t going to give her back, I’d find her myself. She couldn’t have gone far. She didn’t have the resources, the means to just disappear.

I reached her dorm and shoved the door open, slamming it shut behind me. Her scent hit me immediately, faint but unmistakable. It was like a drug, flooding my system and making my heart race. I tore through the room, my hands shaking as I yanked open drawers and rifled through her belongings. Her clothes, her notebooks, the little trinkets she’d collected—each piece felt like a fragment of her, something tangible to cling to.

I picked up one of her sweaters, pressing it to my face and inhaling deeply. It was pathetic, I knew that, but I didn’t care. She was slipping away from me, and I couldn’t let that happen.

Her desk was the next target. I ripped open the drawers, scattering pens and papers across the floor. A notebook caught my eye, its worn cover familiar. I flipped it open, scanning the pages for anything that might tell me where she’d gone. But it was just notes, neat handwriting detailing lectures and assignments. Nothing personal. Nothing useful.

My frustration boiled over, and I slammed the notebook onto the desk. I leaned forward, gripping the edge tightly, my breath ragged. “Where are you?” I whispered, the words barely audible over the pounding in my head.

When her dorm yielded nothing, I didn’t hesitate. I drove to her parents’ house, piecing together the location from vague details she’d mentioned in passing. The drive stretched on endlessly, every mile feeding the simmering panic in my chest. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ached, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

Her mother answered the door, her warm expression shifting to confusion the moment she saw me.

“Hi, can I help you?” she asked, her voice cautious but polite.

I forced a smile, though it felt foreign on my face. “I’m Owen. I’m, uh, a friend of Kira’s. I was just wondering if she’s here.”

Her mother’s brows furrowed. “Kira? No, she’s not here. Why would she be? Is everything okay?”

I swallowed hard, the weight of her suspicion pressing on my chest. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just… I haven’t seen her in a couple of days. I thought she might’ve come home.”

Her mother shook her head, a flicker of concern crossing her face. “No, she hasn’t been here. We haven’t heard from her. Are you sure she’s okay?”

The panic that had been simmering threatened to boil over. I nodded quickly, stepping back. “Yeah, she’s fine. I’m sorry to bother you. Thanks.”

Her mother watched me closely, her unease palpable. “If you hear from her, can you tell her to call us? We’ve been worried about her.”

“Of course,” I said, turning and walking briskly back to my car. I could feel her eyes on me the entire way, her suspicion trailing after me like a shadow.

I slid into the driver’s seat and gripped the wheel, my chest heaving. She wasn’t here. She hadn’t even told her parents anything. Where the hell was she?

The drive back was a blur. My mind replayed every interaction, every moment I’d spent watching her. The way she’d tucked her hair behind her ear during class, oblivious to my gaze. The way her lips curved when she read something she enjoyed, her concentration so absolute she hadn’t noticed me staring. I’d memorized her schedule, her habits, the little things that made her Kira. But now, all that knowledge felt useless.

By the time I got back to my dorm, the desperation had turned to something darker. I kicked the door shut behind me and dropped onto my bed, surrounded by the remnants of my search. Her sweater was still clutched in my hand, the fabric soft against my skin. I held it to my face again, inhaling deeply, as if it could somehow ground me. But it didn’t. Nothing did.

I stared at the wall, my mind racing. Images of Kira flashed behind my eyes, fragmented and disjointed. Her smile, her laugh, the way she’d looked at me with a mix of fear and defiance. The way her body had trembled under my touch, her gasps mingled with mine. She was mine. She’d always been mine.

But now she was gone, and the emptiness she’d left behind was unbearable. I felt like I was unraveling, every thread of control I’d carefully woven coming apart at the seams. My chest ached, the weight of my failure crushing me.

I picked up her notebook from the floor, flipping through the pages aimlessly. The neat rows of text blurred, my vision clouded by tears I refused to let fall. “Kira,” I whispered, the sound of her name breaking something inside me. “Come back.”

The words hung in the air, unanswered. The room was silent, except for the sound of my ragged breathing. I leaned back against the wall, clutching the notebook to my chest like it was some sort of lifeline. The darkness pressed in around me, suffocating and absolute.

I couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not ever.

The thoughts swirled, chaotic and consuming, as I sat there, drowning in my own torment. The only thing I knew with certainty was that I wasn’t done. Not yet. Not ever.