Michael refused to believe Juniper was gone.

It had been just over a week since she and the others disappeared, but the idea that she was simply gone felt impossible, like trying to convince himself the sun wouldn’t rise tomorrow. She was strong—stubborn—and he knew her better than anyone. Juniper wasn’t the kind of person who would vanish without a fight. That thought, his belief in her, was what kept him going. The alternative was unthinkable, a pit of despair he couldn’t afford to fall into.

Now, once again, he found himself at the great Willow.

Its massive branches stretched skyward, casting shadows across the earth beneath it. Lanterns and small mementos lined the base, tokens left by grieving families and friends for those who had vanished. A photo of Juniper sat among them, placed by Alejandro and Georgina. Seeing her face there twisted something deep in his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to move it. Instead, he stood in silence, staring up at the branches swaying gently in the evening breeze. The air smelled of damp soil and fading leaves, grounding him as he tried to piece his scattered thoughts together.

Over the past few days, Michael had been relentless.

He’d combed through the woods with a flashlight and a stubborn determination, questioning anyone in town who might have seen something, anything. He’d gone through her things, searching for clues she might’ve left behind. Every lead he’d chased had turned into a dead end. Sheriff Calhoun was doing what he could, but Michael could see the frustration in his eyes. The man was just as stumped as everyone else.

Michael clenched his jaw, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. A faint rustling sound pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t bother turning fully before speaking, his voice sharp and tinged with frustration.

“If you’re trying to sneak up on me, you’re doing a shit job,” he said flatly, glancing over his shoulder. His gaze landed on {{user}}, his expression softening just slightly at the sight of them.