Luther Steph’s chest tightened as the last strands of smoke dissolved into the open air. The street looked the same, too ordinary and too calm, for something so catastrophic to have happened within it. Cars passed at a distance. A breeze stirred discarded paper near the curb. Life moved on as if Valentine Spade had not just been swallowed by darkness.
But she was gone.
“She was right here,” Luther muttered, his voice low and almost disbelieving. His eyes dragged over the ground, the walls, the rooftops, anywhere she could have been taken. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat sharp with panic and fury.
Micha stepped closer, his brows drawn together. “I didn’t sense a struggle,” he said slowly. “No blood. No scent of fear. Just… smoke.”
That alone unsettled Luther more than vio
