MARION

“She’s not here? It’s getting late.” I muttered, sitting up on the bed. The soft glow of my phone screen illuminated the empty room. No missed calls, no messages from her. 9:32 PM. My chest tightened slightly.

I shrugged on a loose T-shirt and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Something didn’t feel right. I ran a hand through my hair, grabbed my keys, and headed down to the garage. Sliding into my Cybertruck, the familiar rumble of the engine gave me a small sense of control.

I ...