The next day came with an unsettling quiet.
Rayzen hadn't seen Alea since the fight. No texts, no calls, no surprise appearances in the places they usually bumped into each other. It was like she vanished completely.
He couldn't focus. His usual swagger was gone. All that was left was a gnawing sense of worry, something he rarely allowed himself to feel.
He walked the streets of Westbridge, his boots tapping lightly against the pavement. His eyes flicked across the familiar spots. The diner she loved, the old bookstore down the road, and the little park they sometimes went to when they wanted to escape the chaos of their lives.
Nothing.
Not even a sign.
Rayzen's jaw clenched. Where the hell was she? It wasn't like Alea to run off like this. Especially after everything that had happened.
His fingers fumbled with the cigarette pack in his pocket, but he didn't light one. The habit felt hollow now. Like he needed something more, but he wasn't sure what.
She's somewhere, he thought, I just need to find her before she gets any deeper into whatever this mess is.
He walked past the places they'd both spent too many hours in—places where the air felt thick with memories of things said and unsaid. Every corner seemed to taunt him with a reminder of what he might have done wrong.
But he couldn't fix it by standing still.
Find her, Rayzen.
That was all that mattered now.