Despair

Eve’s POV

“Shit.”

The word escaped Eve’s mouth before her brain even caught up. She stood in the middle of Lily’s living room, staring down at the phone lying abandoned on the kitchen table.

Cracked screen. Still on. But no sign of Lily.

Not upstairs. Not in the kitchen. Not in the bathroom—not even hiding in the weird little broom closet she used to lock herself in when she needed to “emotionally reboot.”

Eve had torn through the entire house in under five minutes, calling her name like a madwoman. Nothing. No signs of struggle. No blood. No obvious abduction note pinned to the fridge with a smiley-face magnet. Just Lily’s phone and the overwhelming, stomach-sinking knowledge that something had gone horribly, irrevocably wrong.

“Cool. Totally fine,” Eve muttered, running a hand through her hair. “Maybe she just... left her phone behind and went for a spontaneous jog through the woods where werewolves tried to eat her yesterday. Very normal. Definitely safe.”