(Slade’s POV)
I pulled my phone out and called Ryder.
He answered with sleep in his voice. “Slade. Are you dying.”
“Aspen’s gone,” I said.
Silence.
Then Ryder’s voice snapped awake. “What do you mean gone.”
“She left,” I said. “Took the girls. Left last night.”
“What did you do,” he asked immediately.
I stared out through the windshield. “I yelled.”
Ryder swore. “Of course you did.”
“Help me,” I said.
“Okay,” Ryder said, like he was thinking fast. “Call Jasper too. We’ll fan out. You know her old neighborhood.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t.”
Ryder went quiet. Then he said it, careful. “You don’t know where she came from.”
“No,” I repeated, and it felt like a failure.
“All right,” Ryder said. “We start with where she might feel safe. Warming centers, twenty four hour diners, hospit
