“I need to look him in the eye,” I said. “I need to hear him say it.”

Matteo reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black burner phone.

“He has been trying to contact the proxy to confirm the final payment,” Matteo said.

He placed the phone on the wooden table between us.

The plastic clicked sharply against the dust.

Suddenly, the silence of the room was broken by a low, vibrating hum.

The phone on the table shook, its screen lighting up the dark wood with a bright blue glare.

An unknown number flashed on the display.

My breath caught in my throat as the phone continued to buzz against the table.

Matteo stared at the screen, his hand hovering inches above the plastic.

“Do not answer it,” he whispered.

Before he could grab the device, the screen changed, signaling an incoming text message.

The preview of the text message appeared on the glowing screen.

It read: *The girl is still alive. We need to finish this now.*

I snatched the phone before Matteo could stop me.