Page 78 of Shattered Hate

Before I can add more, Cope chimes in with a teasing, “Oh, cute.”

I hurry my explanation, the pit in my stomach growing. “He said he’d only be an hour. He’s a half hour late now. I tried calling—three rings and then straight to voicemail.” A sick feeling churns inside me.

“Maybe he just needed some time alone?” Cope suggests, as though that were the obvious answer.

“Cope, he told me he loved me.” Something isn’t right. “I’m heading over to your dorm.” I throw on my sneakers and grab my sweater in a rush.

“Tray,” Cope warns, worry threading through his tone. “He’s been having some trouble lately.”

“What kind of trouble?” I snap as my eyes narrow.

“With his uncle.”

“What? Why am I just hearing about this now?”

I quicken my pace into a run across the campus.

I burst through the front doors and take the stairs two at a time. Cope’s voice crackles on the other end of the phone, mingling with Brayden and Kal’s whispered words. I pound on a dorm door until nothing but oppressive silence meets me. “Cope,” I murmur, barely daring to hope. “He’s not here.”

“Tray.” Brayden’s voice comes over the line, low and hurried.

“Bray, what’s this Marley like?”

“Bad news, Tray—really, really bad.”

The sound of it twists something inside me. Would Daxton have willingly gone with him?

Time seems to stall as I stand rooted on the threshold. “Oh shit.” Instantly, I pull up the tracker app, still listening to Brayden. “I’ve got a tracker on his phone,” I mutter. There’s a sinking feeling in my gut.

A distant shout catches my ear—someone says, “A tracker?” But I’m too focused on the screen. Then I freeze.

Last known location: the trailer park.

Dread floods through me, and my mind races with possibilities—did he choose this, or was he taken against his will? I remember every tremor in his voice over the past few months; after today, after all he admitted, I know he would never willingly go there.

“He’s at the trailer park.”

“We’re coming—stay on campus!” Bray’s command cracks the air. But I cut him off, refusing to be swayed.

“No, meet me at the park,” I insist, already moving.

I fire up the ride-share app, spotting a car just one minute away, and book it immediately. My phone continues to buzz with calls. I know it will be the guys telling me to wait. But what if he’s in danger? I won’t let this chance slip away—I’m not about to lose him again.

The ride arrives in mere moments. I dive in and nearly yell for the driver to floor it, a plea hidden in my frantic words. Ten minutes later, the car screeches to a stop. Relief mingles with anxiety as I thank fate silently—the driver clearly understood the panic in my tone.

We pull into the front of the trailer park, and suddenly, everything spins. A thick veil of smoke wraps around the area, and I brace myself for what awaits me.

The overwhelming smoke chokes the air as the driver slows, and I bolt out, sprinting with every ounce of energy I have toward Daxton’s trailer. My heart is pounding, and my chest tightens with fear as towering black smoke spirals upward,flames greedily devouring the windows. “Daxton!” I shout desperately. Neighbors emerge from their trailers, the distant wail of sirens growing louder. My eyes dart frantically through the gathering crowd, searching for Daxton, but he’s nowhere to be seen. With trembling hands, I pull out my phone and dial his number, only to be met with the dreaded voicemail. “No. No. No.” Not in there, please. I check the app again—still pinpointed at his trailer.

“Trayton,” a voice calls, and I turn with a flicker of hope, only to see the guys rushing toward me, fear etched on their faces. We stand there, helpless, as more flames lash out of the windows, the smoke thickening. A fire engine roars up, and firefighters, police, and paramedics swarm the scene. The sound of shattering glass pierces the air, eliciting screams as a mass of flames bursts from a window.

“Is there anyone in there?” a firefighter shouts to the crowd.

“Why aren’t they going inside?” I shout, my voice cutting through the chaos. My heart pounds with urgency as I push through the crowd, all eyes locked on the trailer engulfed in fierce, bright flames. The fire hoses spray endlessly, yet the water seems to vanish against the raging fire. “Someone needs to go in there, please!” I beg, my words getting lost in the sea of panic. Maybe he just left his phone in there. He may not even be in there. He’s not. He can’t be.

“I need you all to listen,” a firefighter shouts to the crowd, getting everyone to quiet down. “Is there anyone in there?”

“I saw a man and Daxton go in, but only the man came out,” someone yells from behind, and my world tilts, the voices around me fading into a blur. Panic surges like a tidal wave, stealing my breath.

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