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“Depends, are you murdering humans or just the vibe?” Alec’s retort makes me chuckle and the side-eye Roman gives me only deepens it.

“Murder? What am I, a serial killer?” Roman gasps dramatically and I roll my eyes.

They’re idiots.

The screen lights up, a vicious smile spreading on my face when I find Elara entering her apartment.

She leans against the door frame taking huge breaths, standing there for a while.

Five minutes later, she moves again, drinks some water and tips the rest over herself letting it drip down her face.

Her golden, delicate hair sticking to her forehead, she wipes her face with my shirt and for a second, I envy the fabric more than I should.

The way I keep licking her face actually makes me think I am her pet dog.

“Sweet mother of God.” Her voice booms into my earphones. “I kissed him.” Facepalming herself, she bends down, leaning her back on the counter wall.

Silence falls around her, from only hearing her ragged breaths I know she’s overanalysing what happened between us in her brain.

“I should go back home.” Her low voice indicates how unsure she is but it makes me clench my fingers all the same.

She’s thinking of leaving me? She cannot leave me, if she does—she won’t ever come back.

Not again!

Like mama.

“Yeah! Home…home is familiar.” Her nails dig into her skin as she hiccups. Is she crying because I kissed her?

D-Did…Did I hurt her?

“Nothing…will h-pen to me.” She tries again, her voice cracking. “Yes, I can go home.”

Fuck, she’s really leaving me. Fucking again.

I don’t think I’ve been breathing ever since I heard her talk about moving back. She cannot do this to me.

She…cannot.

My mind spirals and the rage almost make me want to slam the phone on the table but I won’t be able to see her then.

I need to see what she’s doing so that I can stop her, I will fucking kidnap her if she tries to leave me.

I failed once; I will not tolerate another failure. Losing her would reopen every unresolved wound of mine.

She stands up in a jerky movement groaning in pain.

“You’re such a bitch.” She mumbles and starts moving again, from one room to another, walking until she’s standing in front of her wardrobe. Dumping every item left on the hangers like I did yesterday.

“Stop whining, loser.” She shouts and had I been looking away I’d have thought she was talking to someone else.

Is this how she talks to herself? Like an invalid?

I grip the phone tightly, grabbing the car keys from the table. I’ll be damned if I let her slip through my fingers, not again, not when I’ve finally found her.

I cannot fucking lose her again.

This better be a fucking joke or I’m about to make her beg for mercy for even trying to think of escaping from me.