I was too late. – Elias
Elias
The alert came in at 3:47 a.m.
A single, sharp tone from the secure line.
I stared at the screen.
EMERGENCY PING DETECTED
Device: Liana – Personal
Last location: 4279 W. Bayfield Ave.
My breath stopped.
I was already moving.
The streets blurred past me.
Miso sat in the passenger seat, ears twitching, eyes locked forward. He knew.
Every red light was a suggestion.
I ran them all.
She pressed it.
She remembered.
She reached for me.
The warehouse was quiet. Abandoned. Rusted panels, broken windows, weeds up to my knees.
I parked around the corner, grabbed my gear, and approached from the side.
No cameras. No alarms.
But the side door was ajar.
I slipped in, gun low.
Miso followed close, silent.
Room by room. Empty.
Then—
I saw it.
Something scraping against the concrete.
A metal chain. Broken. Glinting under the flickering light.
I knelt, reached out, and picked it up.
The clasp was snapped.
The back was engraved.
-E
It was hers. Her necklace.
The one I gave her on her sixteenth birthday. The one with the tracker. The one she never took off.
The one she used to call me home.
My grip tightened.
I scanned the room. Scuff marks. Two sets of boot prints. Drag marks.
They were here.
Not long ago.
And now they were gone.
I dropped into a crouch, breathing hard.
Miso nudged my arm with his nose. A low whine.
I looked at him. Then at the chain. Then at the empty room.
And something inside me fractured.
She did everything right.
She called me.
She needed me.
And I was still too fucking late.
I pressed the chain to my lips.
“I’m sorry… my love”
A beat of silence.
Then I stood up. Cold. Steady. Deadly.
“But I swear to God, baby,” I whispered. “I won’t be late next time.”
