Adrian’s POV
The GPS ping on my tablet was a steady, mocking heartbeat. It was moving through the Lincoln Tunnel, a tiny red dot representing the woman who had just dismantled my world with a four-word text.
I’m gone. Don't look.
"Faster, Miller," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I didn't recognize it. It sounded like the wind blowing through a tomb.
The Maybach tore through the midtown traffic, sirens from our police escort clearing a path that usually took an hour in minutes. I didn't care about the laws. I didn't care about the headlines tomorrow. I only cared about the signal.
"The signal stopped, sir," Miller said, his voice tight. He was looking at the dash-mounted monitor. "Gate 42. Port Authority. The bus just departed for the coastal route."
"Intercept it," I commanded.
"
