James gunned the engine, peeling out of the driveway with the bodyguards' vehicle tailing close behind. The city blurred past—towering skyscrapers, bustling streets— but Rafael saw none of it. His hands shook as he dialed Eliana repeatedly, each unanswered ring twisting the knife in his gut. "Pick up, damn it," he whispered, his sarcastic edge crumbling into raw fear. Images flashed in his mind: her warm brown skin paling with terror, her expressive honey eyes filling with tears, her pregnant belly vulnerable in the crush of bodies. He'd built walls to protect himself from betrayal, but Eliana had slipped through, making him feel—truly feel—for the first time in years. And now, he was failing her.
The SUV weaved through traffic, Viktor in the escort car clearing paths with precise maneuvers. Rafael's phone buzzed finally, Eliana's name lighting the screen. He answered before the first ring ended. "Eliana! Where are you? Are you safe?"
