Clyde stepped out of the conference room and met the eyes of the last person he wanted to see.
Silas, still wearing his formal suit, stared at him unflinching. A thin layer of sweat was evident on his forehead. His short black hair was no longer neatly styled. His breathing was off as if he had rushed here. His gloved hands twitched slightly, betraying something dark beneath the surface.
Clyde pulled away his gaze, turned his body, and began to walk past him.
"Where is he?" Silas asked out of the blue.
There was something in his voice that made Clyde's restrained emotions scream to break free.
"I see," Clyde mumbled as he took a deep breath. "How ironic. You are still the first…" he paused, then he tilted his head, staring at Silas's unfathomable eyes. "But does it matter? You no longer have the right to ask."
He threw the words at Silas and nodded at the officer waiting for him as an expression of appreciation. He resumed walking toward him.
