Adam sat rigid in the back seat of the car, his gaze fixed on the blur of the countryside flashing past the tinted windows. His fists clenched on his knees, restless energy coursing through him. Every mile they covered felt too slow, too long. He wanted to tear the road apart, to be home already.
Why do I feel like something's wrong?
Sofia's voice from their last call echoed in his head, soft, trembling when she called him my love. He had held onto that word every night since, but now it gnawed at him differently—like a fragile thread stretched too thin.
Beside him, Tristan stretched out lazily, as if the ride were a pleasure cruise instead of a torment. He shot Adam a sideways glance. "You're acting like a man about to break the sound barrier. Relax, brother. You'll see her soon."
Adam didn't answer. His jaw ticked as his fingers tapped impatiently against the leather seat. The silence stretched until Raymond finally spoke, his voice calm but probing. "You're unsettled."
