Rowan's POV

The wind whipped through the deserted street, rattling the loose branches of the trees surrounding Nolan’s apartment. It had been three weeks of staking out this rundown place. Each day, Bret and I sat in the car watching the hollow shell of a home, hoping for a sign that Nolan was still alive. But we’d seen nothing—just an abandoned house. The mailbox was overflowing, the garden had withered to dry, brittle stalks, and the house itself looked like it had been consumed by the earth, vines creeping up the walls like fingers of decay.

As soon as Bret came back with fries and a cola, I couldn’t wait...