A Familiar Scent in the Pines

VANESSA

The cold fire pit stared back at me like a dead eye, rings of black ash surrounded by scattered rocks. This was where it happened—where my son had slept peacefully before someone tried to steal him away. My hands trembled as I crouched down, fingertips hovering just above the burnt remnants.

"The tent was there." Roman pointed to a flattened patch of grass several feet away. His voice was controlled, but I caught the edge of fury beneath it. "Fabian was sleeping alone. I thought he'd be safe with me patrolling nearby."

I nodded stiffly, not trusting myself to speak. The moonlight cast long shadows across the abandoned campsite, turning everything into ghosts of what they'd been just hours before. My throat felt tight as I pictured Fabian, small and vulnerable, being snatched from his sleeping bag.

"Walk me through it again," I finally managed, standing to my full height. "Every detail."