The city slid past the tinted windows of the car as traffic lights blurred into one another. The car moved steadily forward. Maximilian sat in the backseat in a rigid posture with one arm braced against the door and the other resting loosely in his lap. His reflection stared back at him from the glass with his sharp lines, dark eyes, like a man carved out of control.
Micah watched him through the rearview mirror. She had seen him in rage, in violence, and his ruthless side. She had never seen him like this looking so withdrawn, unmoving, as if his thoughts had turned inward and locked him there.
“Sir,” she finally said, unable to contain the question in her head. “Why are you still looking for her?”
Maximilian didn’t respond.
Micah tightened her grip on the seat and pressed on. “Your…
