Page 161 of Hymns of the Broken
Silas drives with one hand, the other white-knuckled on the wheel. He’s making calls, checking with local patrols, every sentence clipped and angry.
“No, nothing yet. If you see any vans, call me directly. Yeah—white, no plates. Thanks.”
I stare out the window, jaw clenched so hard my teeth ache. Every time we pass a dead end or empty barn, something inside me cracks. I keep replaying the night we had, her smile, the way she kissed me before we went back to sleep. I hadn’t even gotten to see her awake this morning. If I’d just—
“Jas,” Silas says, breaking the silence, “don’t go there. Not yet.We’re not done.”
I grit my teeth, swallowing the guilt. “We’re not finding shit.”
He grunts, turning onto another dirt road. “We will.She’stough. Too damn stubborn to let some asshole win.”
The radio crackles—just static, but it sounds like hope. I lean forward, peering into the dark, desperate for anything—a light, a shoe, a miracle.
We check every abandoned lot, every mailbox, every pull-off with tire tracks that don’t belong. Each time, the hope fades a little more.
Finally, Silas lets out a harsh breath. “Let’s head back. We’ll regroup. I’ll call the sheriff again, make sure everyone’s looking. I promise, Jas—we’re not stopping.”
I nod, barely trusting my voice, staring out into the night as we turn for home.
In the darkness, I whisper, “Hold on, baby. I’m coming.”
It’s almost midnight. I don’t know how many hours it’s been since we realized Sawyer was gone. Time stopped meaning anything after the sun went down. Every mile I drove with Silas, every field, ditch, and back road we searched, it all blurs together with the taste of blood in my mouth and panic clawing at my throat.
We walk in, and the house is dead silent, except for the ticking of the kitchen clock and the low hum of Micah’s laptop. Macee sits at the table, eyes hollow, face pale. Jace and Ash hover close, like they’re afraid she might break if they look away. Riot’s by the window, pacing, glancing at his phone every thirty seconds.
My hands are shaking. I can’t remember if I hit a tree, a wall, or the dashboard, but my knuckles are split and throbbing. I drop my keys on the table, my voice coming out like gravel. “Nothing. Not a fucking thing. No tire tracks, no footprints, no witnesses. She’s just gone.”
Macee’s up in a flash, voice raw with tears. “Are you sure? She didn’t text, didn’t call—nothing?” Then she remembers we have Sawyer’s phone and breaks down.
Silas pulls her into a hug, murmuring something I can’t even hear. He was always better at comforting than I was.
I sink into a chair, elbows on my knees, staring at my bloodied hands like the answer might appear there. I feel like I’m drowning. Like I let the only thing that ever mattered slip through my fingers.
Micah’s still hunched over the computer, screens casting him in cold blue light. “He’s a ghost. Whoever did this covered every angle. But nobody’s perfect. I’m going to find something—I swear.”
Riot’s band group chat buzzes on the table. Riot grabs it, reads out the message, voice thin but hopeful.
DEX:“We’re almost there. We’ll split up and search every gas station and motel in the county.”
MILO:“Got flyers. People will be looking for her everywhere.”
Ash shoves a beer in my hand, but I stare at it. I can’t feel anything but this gnawing emptiness where Sawyer should be.
I stand again, pacing, fists clenched, voice sharp and trembling. “If we get even one fucking clue, I’ll kill them. You hear me? They’re not getting away with this.”
Nobody argues. Not a single one of them doubts what I mean.
The house feels haunted, every room echoing with her laugh, her voice, her little quirks. It hurts worse than any wound I’ve ever had. But I won’t let this be the end.
We’re not giving up.
MACEE
I keep thinking about this morning, about how normal it all felt.
Sawyer stole bacon off my plate with a crooked grin, teasing me about Ash and Jace, her blue eyes bright and clear for the first time in days. I remember laughing so hard that I almost spilled my coffee. Sawyer nudged my shoulder, telling me to “be a menace” just to keep up with the chaos in this house.
I wish I’d hugged her before she left.
