“There’s one way,” a grave voice sounded in the doorway making Sam jump as he looked up in the pair of olive eyes, a facsimile of his own.
Defeated, Sam swirled his whisky glass and took another swig of the burning alcohol. He was not a drinker, but it’s been twenty-four hours since Ella had disappeared, and he was out of his mind with worry.
A restlessness so powerful gripped him that he felt breathless at the impact. The heavy load at the region of his chest felt permanently lodged. Out of hopelessness, Sam has paced the whole territory like a madman, hoping that he would get some hint about their whereabouts.
What if Dorian…Ezekiel tried to hurt her in his quest for revenge? His heart constricted at the mere thought. There was not going to be anybody else for him, he would just die
