“Mr. Voss withdrew as your counsel two hours ago, Mr. Prescott,” Arthur said from the corner of the room. “I do not think he will be answering your calls.”

Callum’s cursing echoed down the hallway as the marshals escorted him toward the service elevator.

The heavy door drifted shut, leaving the room quiet once again.

The yellow emergency lights flickered, and then the main power surged back on.

The bright overhead fluorescent lights hummed, making me squint against the sudden glare.

Arthur let out a long, slow breath. He walked over to the bed and picked up the paper Callum had thrown down.

“He is gone,” Arthur said. “The marshals will hold him. Under the terms of the federal protection order, violation is an automatic hold without bail until his hearing before Judge Mallory on Monday.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Mallory does not tolerate people who ignore her orders,” Arthur said. “He will stay in a cell.”

I tried to nod, but another wave of pain hit me, much stronger than the first.

This time, the ache was not in my back. It was a sharp, squeezing sensation that took my breath away.