When the car finally slowed and stopped in front of Amara’s building, Felix spoke carefully.
“We’re here, Mr. Creed.”
For a moment, Elias didn’t move at all.
Then his fingers shifted slightly. His shoulders tightened further, like his body was resisting the idea of what came next. His brow furrowed deeply, anger and fear mixing in a way that made his expression hard and fractured.
He pulled out his phone.
His thumb hovered over Amara’s name.
He stared at it for a second too long.
Then, abruptly, he locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him as if it burned him. Without dialing, he lowered the phone and tossed it aside on the seat.
The next second, he shoved the door open and stepped out.
And then he stormed inside.
His emotions were spiraling out of control—anger, fear, frustration, and something deeper he didn’t want to name. It all collided inside him until it became unbearable.
The moment he reached Amara’s apartment, he strode straight to the door and slammed his fist against it, the loud bang echoing through the hallway. His breathing was uneven, chest heaving as he knocked again—harder this time. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle ticked beneath his skin, and his other hand curled into a fist at his side as he waited for the door to open.
After a moment, the door finally opened.
Amara barely had time to look at him before her expression changed instantly. The moment her eyes landed on his face—tense, furious, unstable—her brows pulled together.
“What are you doing here—” she started, already pushing the door inward to close it.
Elias reacted immediately.
His hand slammed against the door with force, stopping it mid-shut. The impact echoed sharply through the apartment entrance. Without hesitation, he shoved the door open fully and stepped inside, brushing past her before she could stop him.
Amara turned toward him sharply, shock flashing across her face. “What are you doing? You can’t just—”
But Elias wasn’t listening.
He walked straight into the living room and started pacing.
Back and forth.
Fast. Restless. Agitated.
His hands dragged through his hair before dropping back to his sides, fingers flexing tightly like he was trying to control himself and failing. His breathing was rough and uneven, chest rising hard beneath his shirt. Every turn he made was sharp and abrupt, like his body was carrying too much tension to stay still.
Amara frowned deeply now, watching him carefully.
“What is wrong with you?”
That made him stop instantly.
His back stayed turned toward her for one second longer before he slowly lifted his head and looked at her.
Really looked at her.
His eyes moved over her face like he was trying to confirm she was actually standing there alive in front of him. His chest rose unevenly as his breathing caught for a second.
When he finally spoke, his voice came out low and rough, held together only by force.
