Where are you? My love. – Elias
Elias
I followed the only clue I had. I didn’t waste a second.
GPS last ping: Melrose & 8th.
I jumped into the truck and floored it, the engine growling like it knew something was wrong.
I cut through lights. Swerved past cars.
Parked half on the curb.
The alley behind the market was quiet. Too quiet.
I found the leash first.
Frayed. Torn. Thrown beside a dumpster.
Next to it: drag marks in the dust. A few drops of blood.
Someone had come fast. Grabbed her. Left even faster.
There was no sign of her phone. No purse.
Only the leash. And the silence.
My heart was a drumbeat in my throat.
My hands shook.
I stared at the leash like it could give me an answer. It didn’t.
So I drove home.
I knew she wouldn’t be there. But some stupid, desperate part of me hoped anyway.
The second I pulled into the driveway, I saw him.
Miso.
Bleeding. Limping. His fur matted with dirt and blood, tongue lolling, eyes unfocused.
I dropped to my knees.
“Hey. Hey, buddy. Come here. Come here.”
He collapsed against me, whining, pressing his big body into my chest like he’d spent everything just getting back.
My hands flew over him, checking for wounds. His left side was scorched, electrical burn. His paw pads were torn from running too hard.
But he was alive.
She wasn’t with him.
My stomach turned to lead.
“Where is she?” I whispered, voice shaking. “Where’s Liana?”
Miso let out a low, broken whine.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt helpless.
Because I’d been trained for war. For raids. For rescue.
But not for losing her. Not like this.
Back at home, I was a weapon without a target.
I opened everything.
Pulled up satellite feeds. Traffic cams. Rerouted into a DMV plate database. Called in every favor I hadn’t touched in years.
“Vendor said it was a black van. Maybe two guys. No plate,” I muttered into the phone. “Start from there.”
“Check every black van moving westbound from Melrose around 3:30 p.m.,” I barked into the phone. ” the victim is a 21-year-old civilian woman, asian.”
A pause.
“Yes. This is personal.”
I slammed my fist into the table.
Miso flinched.
I closed my eyes. Breathed through the rage.
This wasn’t just an abduction. This was a message.
They knew her schedule.
They knew she walked.
They knew the alley wasn’t watched.
They knew how to hurt me.
Alex came within the hour. She took one look at Miso, then at me, and didn’t ask stupid questions.
“What do you need?”
“Names. Rumors. Anyone poking around the area lately.”
“Done.”
She kissed Miso’s head and disappeared.
I went back to the footage. Frame by frame. Second by second.
Then I just sat. In the dark.
Staring at the frozen image of her leaving the house.
She was wearing her favorite hoodie. She smiled at something Miso did.
It was the last smile I had.
I reached over.
Picked up the torn leash from the table. Blood dried into the stitching.
I curled my fingers around it, barely containing my rage.
“I’m going to find you,” I whispered. “I swear to God, I’ll make you regret the day you were born .”
