Amara's POV
I crept closer and caught the sound of labored breathing drifting from the storage room.
The moment I reached the threshold, the noise ceased. Silence blanketed the storage space once more.
Remembering the alert that had flashed on Dominic's smart band in the private room, I pushed through the door and entered.
Darkness filled the storage area. Only faint daylight streamed through the window.
Still, I immediately noticed a figure hunched on the ground.
"Leave..." Blood filled Dominic's mouth, turning his voice into a rasp.
His silver hair clung to his forehead, damp with perspiration.
The injury on his hand had reopened. Crimson had saturated the bandage and spread into his shirt.
Across the tiles, blood streaks showed where cloth had dragged through the mess. The evidence revealed how much agony he'd endured before I found him. He appeared devastatingly wrecked.
I didn't lose my temper. Instead, I asked with subtle sharpness, "You certain about that?"
