Where is Violet?

RYAN

The leather seat of my car squeaked slightly as I shifted, my gaze fixed on the dashboard clock. Eleven minutes late. I glanced at my phone again, refreshing the chat

“Always testing limits.” I muttered under my breath, smirking to myself.

I leaned back, letting my head rest against the seat, and typed out another message:

“10 minutes late. You know the punishment that awaits you, Mouse.”

I sent it with a sharp flick of my thumb, the corners of my lips twitching. She hated being called "Mouse," but it suited her—the way she darted around, all sharp quips and soft smiles. I could already picture her rolling her eyes at the text, cheeks flushed, as she typed some sarcastic reply.

Except the reply didn’t come.

The chat stayed stagnant, no read receipts, no typing bubble, just the glaring blue checkmarks mocking me.

I shrugged it off. Maybe she was caught up in something. She wasn’t the most punctual person on the planet, after all.

The minutes ticked on. Twelve, thirteen. I opened the window slightly, letting the crisp air seep into the car. She’d show up, probably rushing with some excuse that didn’t make sense.

By minute fifteen, the first flicker of irritation surfaced. I unlocked my phone and hit her contact, pressing the call button.

One ring. Two rings. Three—

Voicemail.

I pulled the phone from my ear, staring at it. My jaw tightened, but I forced myself to relax. Maybe her phone died. Or maybe she’d forgotten it somewhere.

Still, I dialed again.

Voicemail.

But as I stared at the screen, the unease grew sharper, gnawing at me. I leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel tightly. My thumb hovered over the call button again before I pressed it, muttering under my breath.

“Pick up, Violet.”

Voicemail.

I dropped my phone onto the passenger seat and raked a hand through my hair.Could she have forgotten? No, Violet wasn’t the type. She was stubborn about commitments, sometimes to a fault. Something is clearly wrong.

“Damn it, Violet,” I muttered under my breath.

If Violet wasn’t answering, then I’d find her myself.
The cool air hit my face as I stepped out of the car, slamming the door harder than I intended

Walking briskly, I headed toward the main school building, my gaze darting to every figure I passed. My phone buzzed in my hand, but it wasn’t her. Irritated, I silenced the notification and kept moving.

“Ashley!” I called out sharply when I spotted her near the fountain, scrolling on her phone. Her head jerked up at the sound of my voice, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Ryan?” she said, frowning. “What’s up?”

“Where’s Violet?” I demanded, walking up to her, the tension in my tone evident.

Ashley blinked, clearly taken aback. “I thought she was with you already. She left to meet you, didn’t she?”

My jaw tightened. “No, she didn’t. I’ve been waiting for her, and she’s not answering her phone either.”

Ashley’s brow furrowed as she processed my words. “That’s weird. When we were together earlier…” She hesitated, biting her lip.

“What?” I snapped, the growing unease clawing at me.

“When we were together,” Ashley began slowly, “Luke wanted to meet her. She told me she was going to see him, but she should’ve been back by now.”
The name alone sent a ripple of irritation down my spine. My fists clenched at my sides. Luke. Of course. But this wasn’t the time for petty jealousy.

“Where did she agree to meet him?” I demanded, cutting her off mid-sentence.

Ashley shook her head, her face pinched with worry. “I don’t know exactly. She didn’t say—just that he wanted to talk to her about something.”

“It’s been too long,” I muttered, already stepping away.

“Wait!” Ashley called after me, jogging to catch up. “Let me try calling Luke. Maybe he’ll answer.”

I stopped, reluctantly watching as she pulled out her phone and dialed his number. She held it to her ear, waiting.

One ring. Two rings. Three—

“Voicemail,” Ashley said, her voice tight. She tried again, but the result was the same. Her eyes met mine, a flicker of worry in them. “I’ll check out all her usual spots”

“Alright” I snapped, barely holding back the urge to lash out. I didn’t have time for this. Turning on my heel, I barked over my shoulder, “If you see her, call me.”

I stormed through the school grounds, my pulse thrumming like a war drum in my ears. My eyes darted from face to face, scanning for that familiar cascade of brown hair, those wide, expressive eyes. Nothing. Not a single trace of her anywhere.

Classrooms, empty. Hallways, silent. Even the spots she liked to frequent—her usual haunts—yielded no answers.

“She’s fine,” I muttered under my breath, trying to steady the tremor in my voice. “She’s probably late for some ridiculous reason. Nothing to freak out about.”

But the more I repeated it, the less I believed it.

I shoved open the library doors and swept my gaze across the rows of tables. A few students looked up, startled, but she wasn’t among them. My throat tightened as I turned on my heel, heading for the amphitheater next.

“Damn it, Violet,” I growled, my steps quickening. “Where are you?”

By the time I checked the gym, my breathing was labored. Frustration clawed at me, but underneath it was something far worse. Something I couldn’t name because naming it would make it real.
And then it hit me, like a slap to the face.

Home.

What if she’d gone home? It wasn’t far-fetched; maybe something had happened, and she’d decided to leave. I bolted toward the parking lot, my legs moving on autopilot. As I reached my car,I unlocked the door and slid into the driver’s seat.

I jammed the key into the ignition, but just as I was about to start the engine, my gaze fell on the glove compartment. The tiniest sliver of white plastic peeked out, something I hadn’t noticed before. My brows knitted together, a sinking feeling in my gut as I reached over and pulled it open.

Inside was a small white nylon bag, crumpled as if hastily shoved in. My heart pounded as I grabbed it, the plastic rustling loudly in the stillness of the car. It was too light to contain anything significant, but something about it felt... wrong.

I tore it open, my breath catching in my throat.

Strands of brown hair spilled out, stark against the white of the bag. My chest tightened as I noticed the tiny clumps, some of them matted together with a dried, rusty stain. Blood.

“Violet...” I whispered hoarsely, my voice barely audible.

My mind reeled, a chaotic mess of panic and disbelief. I knew her hair—knew the exact shade, the way it caught the light. This wasn’t just hair. This was hers.

My hands trembled as I held the bag, every logical thought in my head dissolving into chaos. Questions pounded at my skull. Who would do this? Why was this in my car? And more importantly—where was she?

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force myself to think, but all I could see was her. Violet. Her smile. Her laugh. Her goddamn stubbornness that always drove me insane. And now—now I didn’t even know if she was okay.

“No, she’s fine,” I told myself sharply, gripping the steering wheel to ground the panic clawing at my chest. “She has to be fine. I’ll find her. I’ll get her back.”

I dropped the bag onto the passenger seat, staring at it like it was some grotesque clue in a nightmare. Whoever left this here wasn’t subtle. They wanted me to find it. They wanted me to know.

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the wheel. Every instinct screamed at me to act, to move, to do something.

I started the car, the engine roaring to life beneath me. As I slammed it into reverse and tore out of the parking lot, a single thought burned through the chaos.

Whoever did this, they just made the biggest mistake of their life.