Dane's POV:
"Captain, I'm not able to reach Jake," Ivan stammers, breath shaking.
I don't even answer. I hang up.
My pulse spikes so fast it hurts.
Rain.
I call her.
Voicemail.
I call again.
Voicemail.
The air in my chest collapses—tight and suffocating.
"Ivan." My voice doesn't even feel like my own.
"Car. NOW. We're going to her apartment."
My hands won't stay still.
Something is wrong—deeply wrong.
She was agreeable this morning.
Rain — who argues with me over everything, who can't let me decide the brand of coffee without a snarky comment — was quiet. Compliant.
And then she kissed my cheek.
That was a goodbye.
Who the fuck does she think she is?
"Fuck—NO."
I grab the vase with both hands and slam it against the wall.
It shatters like bone splitting.
Still not enough.
I swipe my arm across the counter, sending everything crashing—the mug, the bottle, the glass.
I need the noise. I need something to break because I'm seconds away from breaking myself.
