I shove the doors open so hard they slam into the walls, the whole damn agency snapping to attention. I don’t give a fuck. Blood’s running down my side, soaking into my pants, but I don’t slow down. Can’t. Won’t.

"Move, you extras!" I snarl, voice ripping out of my throat. "Outta my fuckin’ way!"

Some pencil-pusher tries to step in front of me—asking something stupid, something useless—and I barely stop myself from decking him across the face. I shoulder past, sending him sprawling into a desk, ignoring the way people flinch when they see me.

Pain's lighting up every nerve ending in my body but I don’t care. Not until I see her. Need to see her.

"Where the fuck is she?!" I bark, slamming my palm against the wall hard enough to rattle the glass.

Someone tries to tell me she’s fine, that she’s somewhere upstairs, but their mouth moves too slow, their voice too calm. I can't trust 'em. Can't trust anyone.

I bolt for the elevators—jam my finger into the button—then curse and take the stairs instead, two, three steps at a time. Every floor’s a blur of shocked faces and scrambling bodies but all I can think is she’s gone, she’s gone, I was too late—

"Fuck—fuck—fuck!" I spit under my breath, shoving open doors, slamming into corners. "Don't you fucking dare be gone—"

I round the last corner so fast I nearly wipe out, boots slipping on the polished floor. My heart’s a fucking war drum in my ears, drowning everything else out.

And then—I see her. Alive. Standing. Breathing.

Everything inside me shatters at once.

My legs nearly give out. I stumble, drag in a breath that feels like the first real one I’ve had in hours. Blood's still pouring down my side, my hands are shaking like I’m about to explode, but none of it matters.

"Fuck..." I croak, voice breaking under the weight of it all.

I don't even care who’s watching anymore. My knees almost hit the ground with how fast I close the distance, hands out like I have to physically grab onto her or she’ll vanish.

I thought I'd lost her. I thought I'd never get to see her again. I can barely fucking stand with the way relief and guilt and rage crash together inside me like a goddamn grenade.

I don’t say anything else. Just pull her into me, hard, desperate, holding on like she’s the only thing keeping me alive.

Because she is.