Benedict's POV
I had to get to that room immediately.
My body launched from the desk, crossing the office space in rapid strides. My fingers wrapped around the door handle, twisting it with force as I pulled the door wide. The corridor stretched empty before me. Perfect. The last thing I needed was another person blocking my path with questions or concerned expressions or attempts to analyze my current state.
My pace was relentless. Each footfall rang through the hallway with sharp precision, and I refused to care who might hear. Let them listen. Let them speculate about my destination and the urgency driving my movements.
The guest wing occupied the distant corner of the second floor. I climbed the staircase, taking multiple steps at once, then veered left when I reached the landing. Here, thick carpeting absorbed the sound of my approach, though my ragged breathing still echoed in my ears.
The rhythm was erratic. Dangerously fast.
