HAYES
The heavy double doors of the study slammed shut behind Ciara, the sound echoing through the room. I stood frozen behind the desk for one second, my fingers dug into the mahogany wood until the grain groaned under my grip. The scent of her panic and anger was still thick in the air, mixing with the sharp smell of my own flared aura.
"Hayes," Killan said, stepping forward from the leather chairs. "You need to—"
"Get out," I growled, not looking at him.
"She is running toward the western gate," Killan pressed, his voice tight. "If she leaves the perimeter without an escort—"
"I said get out!" I roared.
The force of my voice rattled the glass inkwells on the desk. Killan closed his mouth, his jaw clenching, and he backed out of the private office, closing the doors quietly behind
