Page 4 of Yearner

Pain shot through his knuckles.

He hit it again.

The glass didn't crack.

Of course it didn't. His family dealt in firearms, and every window in the house had been reinforced for security. It would take more than a few blows to break it.

He struck the glass again, ignoring the sharp sting spreading through his hand. When he finally pulled back, blood streaked his knuckles.

He stared at it for a second before curling his fingers into a fist.

"Damn it!"

He spun around and returned to the door, pounding on it until his injured hand throbbed.

"Open this goddamn door!"

Silence.

He had never felt so powerless.

Finally, he stepped back from the door, his chest heaving. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't break the window, and no amount of shouting seemed capable of making anyone hear him.

With a harsh exhale, he crossed the room and dropped onto the edge of the bed. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows against his knees, and dragged both hands through his hair.

What had happened?

He replayed their last conversations in his head, searching for something he might have missed, some warning he should have recognized. Had she been planning this for days? Had someone threatened her? Had she suddenly decided she no longer wanted him in her life?

His fingers tightened in his hair.

Why hadn't she given him a chance to speak to her properly?

He sat there, staring at the floor, his anger burning so fiercely that it almost obscured the fear beneath it. Almost. Every time he looked at his phone, the same dread returned, tightening around his chest until he struggled to draw a full breath.

He needed to find her.

She owed him an explanation, and he intended to get one.

The first light of dawn gradually crept through the darkness. A pale glow spread across the snow-covered landscape beyond the reinforced windows, illuminating the bedroom in shades of gray. The snowfall had finally begun to ease, leaving the streets buried beneath a thick blanket of white.

Silas barely noticed.

He had spent hours trying to reach Allison, and now, with the morning approaching, he turned to the only other place he might find a trace of her.

Her social media.

He opened his phone and searched for her accounts, his thumb moving rapidly across the screen. He checked every profile he knew, then searched her name again, hoping he might have missed something.

Nothing.

Her accounts had disappeared, too.

His blood ran cold.

Allison hadn't merely left him. She had made certain he couldn't follow.

Silas called her number one last time, hoping the earlier message had been some kind of mistake.