Page 203 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“Willow?” I scream.

Tearing my way through the kitchen, I fly into the master bedroom where we tucked them in last night. The bed is empty, sheets tangled in a ball. I spin around in a circle. The wardrobe is ajar and cleared out.

“Fuck! Willow!”

Flying into Arianna’s bedroom, it’s the same story. The wardrobe is bare. Her favourite hair ribbons and dresses are gone. The stupid butterfly sculpture that Micah first gifted her isn’t on her bedside table anymore.

Gone.

Gone.

Fucking gone!

The suitcase that had been left discarded on the floor has vanished, along with the few valuables that Willow had in her cabin. It’s like she never existed. If I couldn’t see the new paint and furniture, I’d doubt anyone ever lived here.

Nobody answers my screams.

I’m utterly alone.

Fisting my long hair, I fight the urge to smash the entire cabin to pieces. If that slimy bastard Sanchez has them, they can’t have gotten far. I’ll raze the forest to the ground and let Briar Valley crumble if that’s what it takes to find them.

“Killian!”

Spinning on the spot, I train my terrified gaze on Lola and Albie, both stepping inside the cabin. They look rumpled and exhausted. Lola’s expression is completely distraught, ageing her into a fragile slip of a woman.

“Grams?”

Her lip wobbles. “I’m sorry.”

I haven’t seen her look like this since her husband died. She could barely stand from the weight of her crushing grief. That same emptiness is buried in her eyes now.

“They’re gone.” I gesture around me. “We have to look for them. He’s got them!”

Lola takes a step towards me, her hands outstretched. “No, he hasn’t.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

Albie gulps hard. “She’s safe, Kill.”

A red haze descends over me. Rage. Blistering, volcanic rage, rising in a pyroclastic cloud that will destroy everything in its wake. I face off against them both, my hands shaking either side of me.

“Where is Willow?” I spell out.

“She’s gone,” Lola answers.

“Gone… where?”

She wipes her teary eyes with the edge of her cardigan. Albie’s arm is tightly wrapped around her, ensuring she doesn’t slump into a devastated puddle.

“I couldn’t stop her from leaving,” Lola weeps. “I tried, Kill. I really did.”

Spinning around, I search the cabin again, my desperation rising. All I want is a single clue. A scrap of home. Something to tell me that Lola’s wrong. There’s nothing left.

“Where is she?” I growl at them.

“Willow left last night.” Lola’s smile is drenched in anguish. “She stopped to say goodbye around midnight. We gave her some cash and a burner phone.”

“No. That can’t be true.”

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