Logan stormed into Jean’s room, calling her name, but the silence made his chest tighten. The bed was cold and empty. His eyes darted to the closet, the vanity, the drawers. Everything was in place... her clothes, her shoes, even her favorite perfume still sat on the dresser.

Nothing was missing. Except her.

His pulse spiked.

"Jean!" His voice cracked, echoing through the walls. He tore through the halls, checking every room, then rushed downstairs. The heavy oak doors creaked open just as the morning staff stepped inside.

"Sir?" one of them asked nervously.

"Have you seen Mrs. Kingsley?" Logan’s voice was sharp, urgent.

They all shook their heads. "We’ve just arrived."

Logan’s throat went dry. His mind conjured every horrible possibility... Alex’s men could be behind this, or maybe Tyler, or what if someone inside the house...

His phone buzzed. An unknown number. His heart leapt.

"Jean?" he answered hastily.

But the voice on the other side wasn’t hers.

"Logan..." Henry’s voice was strained, ragged, as if he was forcing the words through clenched teeth. "It’s me."

"Henry?" Logan’s grip tightened on the phone. "What the hell happened to you? Why are you calling from an unknown number? Where’s Emma?"

"A lot happened last night," Henry said, his breath uneven. "Alex came with his men. They tried to kill us. We barely got out alive. Right now, I’m at a petrol pump. Using a damn phone booth to call you."

Logan closed his eyes, releasing a shaky breath. Relief flooded through him. "Thank God you’re safe. I’ll send Hannah right away to get you. Tell me your location."

"No!" Henry snapped quickly, his tone urgent. "Don’t send anyone. Alex could be watching you. There might be something in your house, some device. They could be tracking every move, every word."

Logan froze, the pieces falling into place. All this time, their conversations. Their plans. Their failures. Someone had been listening.

His jaw clenched. "Fine. Stay put. I’ll contact you when I can... once I’ve found Jean."

Silence. Then Henry’s confused voice. "Wait. What do you mean... once you’ve found Jean?"

Logan’s stomach twisted with shame. His hand trembled as he pressed it to his forehead. He failed her again. He failed to protect her, to understand her, to be there when she needed him.

He forced the words out, bitter and heavy on his throat.

"I think she left me."

Henry went silent for a moment, the faint static of the phone line filling the gap. Then his voice came, low and sharp, as if he was forcing himself to stay calm despite the pain in it.

"Logan, you’re not making sense. Jean wouldn’t just leave like that, not after everything. Are you sure she’s gone?"

Logan dragged a hand through his hair, pacing the empty hallway. His chest tightened, the echo of her name still hanging in the air like a ghost. "Her bed’s empty. I searched the whole house. All her things are still here, Henry... but she’s not. It doesn’t make sense. It’s like she just... vanished."

Henry exhaled heavily. "Damn it... you think Alex got to her?"

The question pierced him like a knife. Logan froze, his breath caught in his throat. For a moment, every image that flashed before his eyes was of Jean... her fragile body in Alex’s hands, her broken voice crying out for help. His stomach turned violently.

"No." His voice was steel, though fear thundered beneath it. "No, if Alex had her, he would’ve called already. He’d want me to know. He’d want me to suffer."

Henry coughed harshly, the sound rattling. "Then there’s only one possibility left... Jean didn’t leave you, Logan. She might be out for a bit but I don’t think it’s safe for her outside alone. After everything that happened to us last night..."

The words landed like a death sentence. Logan’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. Every muscle in his body screamed to break something, to tear the world apart until he found her.

"I swear, Henry," he muttered, his voice trembling with rage, "if Alex or anyone touched her... if he laid a finger on her... I’d kill them with my own hands."

________________________

Logan didn’t wait another second. He shoved the phone into his pocket, grabbed his keys, and stormed out of the house. The heavy slam of the door echoed behind him, but his head was filled only with one thought: Jean.

As he slid into his car, he hit the dial for his father. The call connected after a few rings.

"Logan?" Jared’s deep voice carried concern.

"Dad, listen carefully," Logan said, his tone clipped, urgent. "Jean and I... we had a fight last night. She was upset, but I didn’t think she’d actually leave. This morning she’s gone. Her things are still here, but she’s nowhere to be found. I need you and Mom to start looking... everywhere. Call anyone you know. Check the places she might go."

A sharp intake of breath. "Gone? Logan..."

"No time for questions," Logan cut him off. His voice was harsh, desperate. "Please. Just do it. I’m already on the move."

He didn’t wait for a reply before ending the call and immediately dialed Hannah. She picked up lazily, her voice groggy.

"Logan? It’s early..."

"Hannah, shut up and listen!" His voice broke, startling her into silence. "Jean’s missing. Since last night. I don’t know if she left or if someone took her. I need you to look for her. Check her favorite cafes, boutiques, anywhere she might show her face. Call me if you find anything."

Hannah gasped, fully awake now. "Missing? Are you serious? Logan..."

"Just do it!" he snapped, his chest burning.

He ended the call, his pulse roaring in his ears. The steering wheel creaked under the force of his grip.

Jean, where are you?

The car roared to life, tires screeching against the pavement as he shot out onto the street. His heart was pounding too fast, his breath shallow. Every second felt like an hour. Every shadow looked like a threat.

He didn’t know if she was safe, if she was hiding, or if Alex had already reached her. All he knew was that he wouldn’t stop until he found her... even if he had to tear down the city brick by brick.