Nico
Thirteen hours.
That was how long it had been since she disappeared, and now night had already fallen with still no sign of her.
I sat in my study, a glass of wine in hand, slowly nursing it as I watched Martin pace back and forth across the room. His steps were sharp, restless, the tension in his body obvious even without looking at his face.
But I did look.
His brows were drawn together, his jaw tight, and the expression he wore made it clear he wasn't pleased with whatever he was hearing.
I couldn't blame him.
We had managed to track the camera footage—just enough to identify the car Carmen got into. That part had been easy.
Too easy.
Because after that… nothing.
The car had vanished.
Not slowed down. Not rerouted. Not flagged.
It was as if it had disappeared into thin air.
And now there was the accident.
