Page 64 of Worship Him

"What do you need, boss man?"

I type back quickly: "Find out which paps were chasing her. They're going down for this."

The engine roars to life, and I peel out of the driveway. The city lights blur as I push the speed limit, my mind fixated on one thought: Destiny and Avery better be okay.

I push my car to its limits, weaving through traffic like a man possessed. The highway stretches endlessly before me, every mile feeling like an eternity.

My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel, my jaw clenched so tight it aches.

Why is everyone driving so fucking slowly? Don’t they know there are other people with important business trying to drive here?

I push the accelerator harder, the car roaring in response. The speedometer creeps past 100 mph, but it's not enough. It's never enough when your child might be in danger.

I’ve never been more glad I bought this car; it’s quite capable when it comes to speed. And that’s exactly what I need right now.

A curve appears ahead, sharper than I anticipated. I jerk the wheel, tires squealing as they struggle for grip. For a moment, the car fishtails, and my heart leaps into my throat.

"Fuck!" I snarl, wrestling the steering wheel back under control.

The car straightens out, but my pulse is still racing. I ease off the gas, taking a deep breath. This isn't me. I'm always in control, always composed. But right now, I feel anything but.

Cars around me honk, and I resist the urge to yell at them to just fuck off.

"Get it together, for fuck's sake," I mutter to myself, shaking my head. I hate how my emotions are affecting me. I’ve been able to suppress my emotions for years, this is not the time to lose that control.

I glance at my phone, hoping for a call or text from Destiny. Nothing. The silence is deafening.

My foot itches to floor it again, but I resist. Avery needs me in one piece. I can't help her if I wrap myself around a tree like an idiot.

I settle into a more reasonable speed, still fast but no longer reckless. The highway continues to frustratingly continue beforeme, teasing me with how endless it seems. But I force myself to stay focused, to stay calm.

"Hold on, baby girl," I whisper, thinking of Avery's tiny face. "Daddy's coming."

The speedometer hovers just shy of reckless, but every fiber of my being screams to push harder, faster.

I've barely known Avery for a heartbeat, and now she might be... No. I shut that thought down hard. She's fine. She has to be.

A sign for a rest stop flashes by. For a split second, I consider pulling over, collecting myself. But the thought of Avery, tiny and helpless, possibly hurt...

"Fuck that," I growl, pressing the accelerator.

I've built an empire, crushed competitors, and navigated the cutthroat world of tech with iron-fisted control. But right now, I feel like I'm grasping at smoke, and it’s not a feeling I’m enjoying much.

My mind turns to Destiny, and an unfamiliar feeling of regret suddenly tickles at the back of my mind. Despite everything, the thought of her hurt twists something deep in my gut. We may be over, but she's still Avery's mother. My daughter needs her.

A semi lumbers in the right lane, and I zip past it, ignoring the blaring horn. The world outside is a blur, inconsequential compared to the thoughts racing through my mind.

I've never been one for what-ifs or regrets. You make a choice, you own it. But now, faced with the possibility of losing everything I didn't even know I wanted...

The sign for St. Mary's Hospital looms ahead. I take the exit at breakneck speed, tires squealing in protest. Whatever I find beyond those hospital doors, I'll face it head-on. Because that's what I do. I'm Adam fucking Ryder, and I don't lose.

Not now, not ever.

Finally, the hospital comes into view. I screech into the parking lot, barely remembering to lock the car as I sprinttowards the entrance. The automatic doors can't open fast enough.

The antiseptic smell hits me as I burst into the lobby. My eyes scan frantically for the reception desk. There. I stride over, cutting in front of an elderly couple.

The older man mumbles something under his breath but I ignore him.

---