Damien turned and strode away.
His steps were rushed, almost stumbling.
“Mr. Clarke! Where are you going?”
“Keep the guards here!”
Damien didn’t look back, his voice edged with panic.
“You stay! If Martin dares to show up, you stop him, even if it kills you!”
“But Mr. Clarke…”
“I’m going to find Grace.”
Damien rushed into the elevator, jabbing the ‘close door’ button repeatedly.
His reflection stared back from the mirrored steel.
It was the face of a man on the edge.
His eyes were bloodshot, and veins stood out on his temples.
***
The black Maybach tore through the streets, blowing through eight red lights.
Faster.
I have to be faster.
Grace, wait for me.
Please, just wait for me.
Damien prayed frantically in his mind, calling on every god he’d never believed in before.
He would trade his own life for hers.
As long as she was safe.
The car hadn’t even come to a complete stop before Damien threw the door open and bolted out.
A few elderly residents were chatting downstairs.
They were startled to see such a handsome yet menacing man storming into their complex.
“Grace!”
Damien reached Grace’s front door and pounded on it.
“Grace!”
“Open the door!”
No response.
Damien took a step back.
He raised his leg.
*CRACK!*
He kicked the security door open.
The door slammed against the wall, shaking dust from the frame.
Damien rushed inside.
The apartment was neat.
A half-empty glass of water she had been drinking that morning was still on the table.
He could feel her presence.
But where was she?
Damien ran into the small bathroom.
Empty.
He checked the kitchen.
Empty.
He even got on the floor and looked under the bed.

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