Noah scrambled to hit the redial button, his thumb hovering frantically over Naya's name on the screen.
He waited, his heart hammering against his ribs, but all he received in return was the frustrating, rhythmic drone of a busy tone.
He tried again, and then a third time, but it was clear that Naya was either already on another call or is purposely ignoring his call in her fit of righteous fury.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, fuck it!" Noah shouted at the empty room.
He didn't have a second to waste. He bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and ducked into his room.
He tore off his comfortable home clothes while breathing hard from the run, throwing them onto the bed in a heap, and scrambled into a pair of jeans and a fresh shirt.
He didn't even bother looking in the mirror to check his hair or his still-swollen lips. His only focus was stopping Naya before she reached the Presidential Palace and started a public relations war that would bury them all.
