Phantom Hollow you can run

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone gruff with the emotion of it, and he glanced upward—anywhere but at her. An exposed throat for her jaws should she seek it—he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“We don’t even know,” he continued, feeling almost robotic with his responses. Drilled time and again of what had happened to his Ibis, he had simply gone on autopilot during the questioning. Somehow, it felt easier with a complete stranger rather than friends and family. “She was found. She looked peaceful. No marks. No indications or smell to hint at sickness, or foul play… she just… She was gone.”

Finally, pale champagne gold eyes slid to her, considering her words. “I just want a tangible answer. Anything. Something.”