She knew exactly what she was doing.
On the other end, silence snapped tight.
Then Elias’s voice exploded through the phone, sharper than before.
“Come back home right now!”
His tone dropped lower, darker.
“Or I will find you and drag you back myself.”
A cold warning followed immediately after, almost controlled rage disguised as calm.
“And I promise you won’t like the way I do it.”
Amara’s eyes widened slightly in anger at the threat. Her grip on the phone tightened.
“You—” she began, voice rising—
But the line suddenly went dead.
Amara stared at the phone for a split second. Then she slammed it down onto the table. The sound cracked through the living room like a whip.
Chapter 6
Elias’s phone slipped from his grip as he slammed it down onto the living room table with a sharp, angry force. The sound echoed through the quiet space.
His chest rose and fell heavily as frustration tightened his jaw. Without thinking, his hand flew up to his face, fingers gripping the frame of his glasses. He yanked them off roughly in one motion and flung them toward the nearby table.
The glasses hit the edge, slid sideways, and dropped straight to the floor. The frame twisted on impact, one lens popping out and sliding a few inches across the polished surface.
“Goddammit,” he cursed under his breath, voice sharp with irritation.
He stepped forward quickly, crouching down as he grabbed the broken frame. His fingers turned it over once, twice, trying to fit the lens back in. He pressed carefully at first—then harder.
The lens refused to sit. It kept slipping out with every attempt.
A frustrated breath escaped him.
Straightening again, he turned sharply and dropped onto the couch.
For a moment, he just stared ahead, jaw tight, before grabbing his phone again. His thumb moved quickly as he searched for repair instructions, scrolling with impatient, jerky movements.
He found a guide.
His eyes narrowed as he read, leaning forward slightly, one elbow resting on his knee.
'Hold the frame steady… carefully insert the lens back into place with controlled pressure.” he muttered under his breath, following along. “Easy enough.”
He tried. One hand gripped the frame tightly while the other attempted to push the lens back into place with careful pressure.
The lens slipped out instantly.
“Seriously?” he muttered, exhaling through his nose.
He tried again—same result.
A frustrated breath left his nose as he rubbed his temple, gripping the broken glasses tighter before looking back at the instructions. His eyes moved down to the second option.
