MALIA’S POV

I stood at the door to their shared room, looking at their beds. Joan’s stuffed unicorn sat on her pillow, its button eyes staring back at me. Ella’s ballet shoes were neatly placed at the foot of her bed, just as she had left them this morning.

I collapsed into Zach’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. "What if we don’t find them? What if—"

"Don’t," Zach said fiercely, holding me tight. "We will find them, Malia. We have to."

The hours dragged on, turning into days. Despite our efforts, despite the police and Ryan’s team working around the clock, we were no closer to finding Joan and Ella. Every knock...