Chapter 14 · Mom's Locked Room

The map's still burning.

I'm standing outside Mom's house at two in the morning, and the lines etched into my palm are glowing faint red under the streetlight. They pulse like a second heartbeat. I don't know if it's the bond doing this or something else, but I know where they're leading me.

Her bedroom. The one she kept locked the last six months before she disappeared.

I use the spare key under the planter. The house smells like dust and old lavender. Everything's exactly where she left it. Mail piled on the counter. Her coffee mug in the sink. I spent three years thinking she walked out on me. Three years of unanswered calls and that one voicemail that said she was sorry, that she loved me, that she had to go.

Now I know she didn't leave. Someone took her.

The map pulls me upstairs. My palm's hot now, almost burning. I push open her bedroom door. The lock's still intact, but I'm not thinking straight. I grab a screwdriver from the hall closet and jam it into the doorframe until the wood splinters.

The door swings open.

It's dark inside. I flip the light switch. Nothing.