Lorenzo's POV

I slam my fists against the steering wheel of my Mustang, the leather groaning beneath my knuckles. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" The word echoes inside the cabin like a curse against the silence choking me.

I just checked her damn night shift job—she never showed up last night. Not once. They haven't seen her. No call. No explanation. Nothing.

Where the hell is she?

My gut twists, not with guilt—because fuck that—but frustration. ...