"Dylan!"

It was the first time Mrs. Ferguson ever called him by his full name, her fury so sharp she nearly lost her balance.

Dylan spun his wheelchair around, ready to leave without another word.

Mrs. Ferguson, shaking, waved over the nearest person, her voice cracking with panic. "What are you standing there for? Go find him! Now!"

She knew Dylan too well. If he said he'd do something, he'd do it no matter the cost.

She'd thought he was just being impulsive, never imagining he'd actually risk his life.

Quickly, she made another call. "Restore the deleted security footage. Give everything to Aiden."

With that done, she drained her cold tea in one gulp. All her usual composure and careful scheming disappeared in that single moment.

Meanwhile, Aiden was still frustrated, unable to find any trace of the missing footage. Then, out of nowhere, the entire set of surveillance videos landed on his desk in less than three minutes.

But whoever took Clara had planned it well. It'd been late at night, and the road to the temple was chosen for a reason-there were no cameras anywhere along that stretch.

just nothing. No more sign of

the endless stream of cars on the monitor and pointed to one

there. And look this way too-that's all wild hills, about ten kilometers from the temple. These cars didn't come back for a while. I'm guessing they went out there for

that "something" was, no one could say yet. The truth was still

*

days, not hearing another word about Clara. She

always did, just to check in. It was

today, Mrs. Ferguson's tone was

"Tara, dear."

are you feeling alright? Should I come

rattled. After everything

said he'd die for

any other way to

ever since Dylan left, she'd watched him grow

care about anything-so detached he almost seemed like a robot, never

she remembered a time when Dylan used to laugh all the time, when he was

thinking the weight of it had just shut him down She didn't pry-after all,

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