Fuck. What is going on?

Tori wouldn’t miss my call unless something were wrong. Maybe she’s ill. Unable to ignore the unease gnawing at my gut, I leave work and go to the Institute.

“Excuse me,” I say to the woman at the reception desk. “I need to talk to two of your students. My daughter, Eden Drake, and her friend Tori Smith. They should be here, taking their final class of the day, but I don’t know which room it’s in.”

She frowns. “Technically, that information is confidential.”

“I’m sure it is, but this is urgent. You could send someone with me. Search me for weapons. Whatever it takes. I just need to be sure they’re okay.”

The barely concealed fear in my voice gets through to her. “Charlie,” she calls, and a security guard comes over to me. “If you wouldn’t mind …” she says to me.

“Please.” I hold my arms out, and the guard pats me down.

“He’s clean.”

“Could you escort him to room 24, please? Madame Ellis’s final class.”

“Thank you,” I tell her, and follow the guard down the hall. He stops at a door, and I will Tori and Eden to be inside.

When he opens the door, I scan the room quickly. The girls aren’t here. Class has come to a halt with my appearance, and everyone is staring at me, including Madame Ellis.

I cross to her and speak in an undertone. “I’m very sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for my daughter, Eden, and her friend Tori Smith. They were supposed to be in this class.”

“Yes, they should be here; but as you can see, they are not.”

My alarm growing, I address the class. “Has anyone seen Eden or Tori?”

“They were in the class before this one,” a girl says. “I saw them in the hall afterwards; it looked like they were leaving.”

Madame Ellis’s mouth is pinched tight with disapproval. “Something must be wrong,” I tell her. “I don’t know what yet. But I’m certain you know it’s not like them to miss class.”

“It is unprecedented,” she allows grudgingly. “I hope that they are well. And now, I must attend to those who are here.”

The students whisper to each other as the class gets underway again. I beat a hasty retreat back down the hall and outside. Where are my girls?

Eden has a tracking app on her phone. I search for her and it says she’s in the apartment. Tori should be with her, but that’s only a partial relief.

Why would they leave school early and go home? They would never just blow off a class. And if one of them were ill, they would have let someone at the Institute know.

I race to the apartment, unable to shake my sense of impending peril. There’s no sign of a disturbance in our hallway, or outside the apartment door. Still, after I unlock the door, I push it all the way open.

As I step inside, James Hopper comes around the door like a madman, a lamp upraised in his hands. I dodge back as he swings it wildly. He almost falls over, and I realize the man must be stoned or drunk.

Dropping the lamp, he pulls out a switchblade and flicks it open. Fuck. I leap back, keeping plenty of space between us, and let him back me in a circle that leads me back to the lamp.

As I pick it up, he rushes me. I barely manage to get the lamp up in time, but swing it hard into his hand. He howls at the impact and drops the knife.

Fueled by adrenaline and fury, I kick him in the kneecap. He goes down like a bowling pin, screaming. I don’t think he’ll be getting up soon, but just in case, I strike his temple with my first, knocking him out.

A glance around shows me Tori and Eden immediately, bound and blindfolded in two chairs. I spot the roll of duct tape and use it to tie Hopper’s arms behind his back. “Hang on, girls,” I call. “I’ll get you loose as soon as I notify the police.”

Five minutes later, both girls are free. They take off their blindfolds as I pull Eden in for a big hug.

Then it’s Tori’s turn, and my emotions are running too high to pretend. I hug her tight, too … and touch my lips to hers.

“Dad!” Eden yells at me. “Is it true, what that man said? That Tori’s your girlfriend?”

“Sweetheart,” I say, trying to soothe her. “The police will be here any minute. We’ll talk about it later, all right?”

“Just answer me.” Her expression holds a mixture of anger, pain, and disbelief. “Is she or isn’t she?”

Girlfriend is an entirely inadequate word for what I feel. “I care for Tori,” I say quietly. “Very deeply.”

A knock sounds at the door. “Police!” a voice calls. I go to answer it, but the stricken look on my daughter’s face tells me we won’t find any easy acceptance from her.