Elias Pov

I sat in the back of the car, fuming. The scent of David’s blood was still on my knuckles, a metallic tang that mixed with the expensive leather of the interior. My chest was tight, my breathing shallow. I didn’t move when we pulled into the company parking garage. I didn’t move when the engine cut out and the sudden silence rushed in to fill the space.

I leaned my elbow against the door’s armrest and buried my face in my palm. The darkness of my own hand was the only thing I wanted to see.

"Sir, we’ve reached the office," Marcus, my driver, said softly.

"Leave the...