I hurried into the elevator, heart hammering with the instincts of a mother wolf sensing her pup in danger. The doors slid open on the 8th floor, and I bolted toward the president's office, knocking once before realizing I didn't even need permission I had to see him, my son.
When I glimpsed Jared perched on Elliot's sleek, black leather couch, relief surged through me like warm sunlight cutting through a dense forest. But instinct soon flared into anger. "Jared, are you trying to give me the fright of my life?! Why did you run off like that?!" I shouted, my voice trembling between relief and the primal protectiveness every mother wolf feels for her pup.
Jared froze for a second, wide-eyed, then bounded toward me and clutched my leg, tail or rather, the energy of pure trust wriggling in apology. "Mommy, I'm sorry. It's all my fault."
