Finare
“Why don’t we try his place, or something?”
Ivy considered the suggestion, and her desperation eventually won out. “Do you know how to get to Diarom?”
He found an empty spot near the building. As he got out of the car, he stared up at the structure that towered over them and let out a low whistle in appreciation. Ivy led the way to the entrance.
“The lights aren’t working.”
“Where’s the switch?”
“I think they should turn on automatically.” Ivy moved further into the apartment, calling out for Killian while she investigated the space.
Finare moved more tentatively, and the sense that something was wrong grew with each step.
There were no signs of a struggle in the apartment, but Finare could only detect weak traces of Killian’s scent.
It wasn’t until he glanced back at the end table by the door that dread settled in his gut like an iron weight.
An assortment of Killian’s possessions sat on the table—the most notable being his silver dagger, complete with sheath and holster. Finare didn’t think he’d ever seen Killian without the weapon strapped to him, and he could think of few reasons why Killian would leave his apartment without it.
Ivy raced up a set of stairs and Finare took note of the loft that she began to search. He walked over to the table and picked up the dagger. He heard Ivy descending the stairs, and he turned slowly to face her, a sympathetic expression on his features.
“He’s not here.” Ivy’s expression was full of worry, but it morphed into fear when her eyes dropped to the weapon in Finare’s hands.
“Where the fuck is he?” Panic surged in her voice.
With another possibility eliminated, Finare’s mind started to race.