#Chapter167
As Ronan pelted down the cold, early December streets, his chest heaving and tears burning his eyes, nothing was okay.
A swell of panic had erupted inside him, short circuiting his every reasonable thought, and the world around him seemed to spin as he navigated the unfamiliar streets. His only objective was simple: capture the blond blur in the distance.
But it was to no avail. It didn't seem to matter how fast he ran, how hard he pushed himself, the distance between them didn't seem to change. Cars sped past, metal death machines riding in his peripheral, and it drove a signet of fear right into his heart; Asa was zigzagging around on the sidewalk, and with every second he stayed out of Ronan's reach, the more he couldn't escape the image of the oblivious thing running right out into oncoming traffic.
He . . .
Oof!
