Page 51 of Worship Him

"Of course. I'll start looking into our options. In the meantime, try to reach out to Destiny again. Calmly, Adam. We don't want to escalate the situation unnecessarily."

I hang up without another word, my foot pressing harder on the accelerator. I don’t know where I’m going but I’m going there fast.

A few miles later, the tires squeal as I hit the breaks and pull over to the side of the road. My heart pounds, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I need to think clearly.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down and consider the situation rationally. Maybe I really am overreacting.

Destiny could have mentioned a trip, and I was too preoccupied to remember. It wouldn't be the first time my work consumed me.

I grab my phone again, scrolling through our recent messages. Nothing about a trip. My finger hovers over her contact, hesitating for a split second before I hit call.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Come on, Destiny," I growl, tapping my fingers impatiently against the dashboard. "Pick up the damn phone."

Voicemail. Again.

I toss the phone onto the passenger seat, frustration bubbling up inside me. This isn't like her. Even when things were at their worst between us, she never ignored my calls completely.

"Think, Adam," I mutter to myself. "Where else could she be going?"

My mind races through possibilities. None of it feels right. The suitcases, the secrecy—it all seems to point to something bigger.

I grab my phone again, this time dialing my assistant.

"Mr. Ryder?" she answers on the first ring.

"I need you to clear my schedule for the next few days," I say, already putting the car in drive.

"Of course, sir. May I ask-"

"No, you may not," I cut her off. "Just get it done."

I hang up, irritated by my frustration. I don’t know what to do and the lack of control irks me beyond words.

The most important thing for me is knowing that Avery and Destiny are safe.

I take a deep breath, my fingers drumming against my knee. The urge to speed off to the airport, to confront Destiny, to demand answers— it's overwhelming.

But I know better. Acting on impulse now could make things worse. They may be long gone by now anyway.

"Such bullshit," I mutter, leaning back in my seat. The leather creaks beneath me as I close my eyes, forcing myself to think rationally.

My phone buzzes. For a split second, hope surges through me. Destiny? But no, it's just my PR rep.

"Talk to me," I answer, my voice clipped.

"Mr. Ryder, we're working on containing the situation. No major outlets have picked up the story yet, but-"

"I don't want to hear about 'buts'. Make it disappear."

"Yes, sir. We're on it."

I end the call, staring at the darkening screen. The silence in the car is deafening. I'm used to action, to solving problems head-on. This waiting game? It's torture.

Still, I know it's the right move. My team is the best in the business. If anyone can handle this, they can.

I start the engine, the familiar purr doing little to calm my nerves. As I pull back onto the road, I force myself to focus on the drive home. One turn at a time. One traffic light after another.

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