The drive to Bella’s apartment felt longer than it actually was. City traffic wasn’t even heavy today, but somehow every red light lingered, every roundabout felt clogged, every bump in the road echoed inside my skull. Maybe it wasn’t the road at all. Maybe it was the weight sitting on my chest.

A week.

A week of calling Nova’s phone even though I knew it was off.

A week of searching through her favorite places.

A week of calling in favors, of placing silent men inside her company, of ...