"Camille!" Beckett's voice tore through the thick curtain of trees, echoing against the craggy hills that bordered the estate's northern edge. His boots crunched over frostbitten roots as he moved faster, eyes scanning every twisted shadow that dared to shift in the underbrush.
No answer. Just wind, cold and cruel, whispering through the pines like a warning.
His chest heaved as he stopped on a ridge, snow melting on his skin beneath the layers. "Camille, if you can hear me, say something!" The sharp mountain air cut at his throat, but he didn't care. Hours had passed since she vanished. Hours since Savannah had placed the torn journal page in his hand and whispered, She didn't leave. She was taken.
