“Where are they?” I ask, getting frantic with each apssing moment.

It feels like a ticking bomb, each second wasted would lessen the probability of me ever seeing them. I can’t help it. Each moment I waste lowers the chance that I’ll ever see them again, and that thought won’t leave my head. I try to push it away, but I can’t help it, it keeps pressing on my chest. Reminding me that time doesn’t wait, even when I want it to.

“My men are working on it.” Dominic responds. ...