The rain hammers against the tall windows of James’s office, blurring the neon lights of the city. He leans forward in his chair, suit pressed sharp, phone tight in his hand. His voice is low, rough, and filled with restrained fury—anger fueled by worry.

The call connects, and his words come fast, sharp, no room for escape.

“Where are you?” His tone is clipped, laced with cold anger. “I’ve been looking for you—calling you—over and over, and you think it’s fine to just vanish?!”

He pauses, his breathing uneven, voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “Don’t play games with me. Tell me where you are. Right now".