Lucas’s POV
I clenched the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white, the leather creaking under my grip like it might snap. My chest felt like someone had wrapped a chain around it and was pulling harder with every breath.
I’d been calling Avela all damn day—texts, voicemails, everything short of sending up a flare—and nothing. Radio silence. It wasn’t like her.
The city streets blurred past as I weaved through traffic, horns blaring behind me. I didn’t care. My phone sat in the cup holder, screen dark and mocking. I’d checked it a hundred times already. No missed calls. No “Sorry, babe, busy day.” Just that empty void staring back at me.
Something twisted in my stomach, sharp and ugly. She'd left this morning because she had something to take care of in the office…I'd watch
