Uneasiness

Uneasiness
Collins’s POV
The silence on Amelia’s side of the text pained me, but I brushed it off. She’d been in a bad temper following her argument with Sophie—I’d noticed the look in her eyes during Elena’s Facetime, how she’d shut her down dead with the flash of our ring. Perhaps she just needed space to cool off, to let the gravity of standing up for herself sink in. I sent one final text message — Call me when you’re ready, love — and set my phone on the floor, as I ordered myself to concentrate on the stack of contracts that laid in front of me. The company was still undergoing serious reconstruction, and I could not afford to be distracted. Not now, not when I worked so hard to gain control.
Blurred by meetings, the day was a series aimed to eliminate Richard’s last loyalists and try to streamline how the units were operated. But my mind kept taking me back to Amelia — her rough, openmouthed cackle as she flashed Sophie her school ID, her defiant posture in that courtyard. She was stronger inside than she realized, and it hurt to not have her here, where I could hold her close and tell her how proud I was. An hour later, when I left the office, the city was covered in dusk, the sky filled with shimmering lights. I settled into my car, considering going home, when my phone buzzed with a call from Becca.
“Let’s meet at the restaurant near my place,” she said. “We have a few details to turn on the wedding.”
I paused and checked the time. I’d intended to give Amelia a follow up call, but Becca was correct — the wedding was just three weeks away, and there was no time to waste. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
The restaurant was intimate and charming, all dim lights and soft jazz music, the type of place Becca adored for its quietly chic vibe. There she was, already there, seated at a corner table, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek bun, clutching a glass of red wine. She motioned me towards her, her smile as casual as it was professional. We jumped right into wedding talk — venue confirmations, catering options, security protocols. Amelia and I wanted it to be small — 30 people max, something intimate that felt uniquely us. “We’ll disseminate a couple of photos to the media,” I said, settling back into my chair. “Enough to get married, but nothing more than that” she added. “Amelia’s not ready for the limelight.”
Becca nodded, scribbling in shorthand on her tablet. “Agreed. I’ve got the photographer sorted, guest list locked — your mom, a handful of close friends. I will take care of the invitations tomorrow.”
Her efficiency was reassuring, and I felt a little wave of gratitude. As we finished, I looked at the table on the other side of the room and froze. And I saw him, seating there. Sean, huddled over a coffee, looking at Becca with a still intensity. He glanced up and caught my eyes for a moment, then nodded at me before shifting his gaze.
I arched a brow, looking back at Becca. “What’s Sean doing here?”
She blinked, her face was blank, almost too innocent. “Oh, him? Nothing, really. He’s just… sleeping over for now. He’s not been feeling well and needed somewhere to crash.”
I laughed, seeing the slight blush on her face. “Under the weather, huh?”
She shrugged and sipped her wine, but I wasn’t having it. Sean’s stolen looks, the way he had been lurking around her most recently—it was clear as day. I was a man and I knew that look. Sean wasn’t just staying over at her place, and Becca was either oblivious, or even worse, pretending to be. I stole a look at Sean, saw our eyes meet and looked away as he shifted uncomfortably. Suppressing a laugh, I chose to overlook it. If Becca wanted me to stand there and act like nothing was happening, I wasn’t about to pressure anything otherwise. Not yet.
We drained our drinks and drove home, the rumble of the city  comforting My apartment was too quiet without Amelia, her absence heavy in every nook. I called her back but her phone went to voicemail. I called Elena next, hoping for the usual brief burst of words, but her phone was unanswered, too. A stab of panic lodged in my gut, but I buried it. They were likely okay with Amelia doing homework, Elena watching over her. I’d try again in the morning.
I slept a little, my dreams haunted by visions of Amelia’s ring, her fierce smile, and a dim undercurrent of something not right. I woke up andthe unease got worse, as a cold lump formed in my chest. I picked up my phone and called Amelia. Voicemail. Elena. Voicemail again. A surge of adrenaline quickened my pulse and I gripped the phone more tightly. This wasn’t right. Amelia was always responsive in some capacity, whether by replying to an email or sending me a quickie text back. And Elena? For she had been in the military and could not be out of reach. I tried again, pacing around my bedroom, the sun rising outside my windows. 
I forced myself to get dressed, washing my face with cold water, and tugging on a suit. I called again in the car —Amelia, Elena, the campus security office. No answers. The knot inside my chest tightened and I began to get scared.  Something was wrong. I could sense it, my primalinstinct wailing at me that Amelia needed me.
In the office I barely took in the morning briefing. My team droned something about quarterly projections, but I was dialing Amelia’s number under the table, each unanswered call causing a stir tomy sanity. It was the same on Elena’s phone — radio silence. Daniel, my assistant, asked as his brow furrowed and I looked at my phone for the tenth time. “Sir?” he ventured. “Everything okay?”
I didn’t respond, my mind whirling. I thought of Amelia fighting with Sophie again. But what if that had set something off? Or Jenny? The idea of her, deranged and maniacal, was chilling. Had she done something? Or Richard striking back for my invasion? The possibilities spun, each more sinister than the last.
Halfway through a shareholder’s report, I leapt to my feet; the chair I’d been sitting on skidded across the floor. “The meeting is over!” I said, my tonecold, interrupting the middle of a sentence. Heads snapped around, in confusion but I was already on the move, snatching up my coat, my phone still clasped in my hand. Daniel settled his tablet under his arm and scrambled to keep up.
“Sir, what’s going on?” he’s asked, running to keep up as I make my way to the elevator.
“Something’s not right,” I said, my voice soft.“Amelia’s not answering. Neither is her bodyguard. I need to find her.”
Daniel’s eyes bulged, then he nodded, falling in step. “What do you need?”
The elevator doors opened, and I got in, resolved. Amelia was going to get into trouble—I could feel it in my bones. I had to reach her, now, before it was too late. I looked at Daniel, keeping my voice firm despite the storm within. “Book a flight. We’re going to…”