My fingers brushed against cold metal and the smooth glass of a phone screen.

The green light illuminated the damp skin of my palm.

The caller ID displayed a blank screen with a single, repeating sequence of zeros.

“Answer it,” Caleb whispered again, his breath smelling of stale coffee and copper.

Marcus shoved him against the brick wall, hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Shut up, Caleb,” Marcus muttered.

I swiped the screen and pressed the phone to my ear.

The line was quiet for three long seconds.

I could hear the faint, rhythmic sound of windshield wipers in the background.

“Adrian,” a woman’s voice said.

The voice was cold, measured, and entirely unfamiliar.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“The person who bought your security team six months ago,” she said.

My hand tightened around the plastic casing of the phone.

“Caleb is done,” I said. “The bomb is defused.”

A low, dry chuckle came through the receiver.

“Caleb was always a distraction,” she said.

Beside me, Daniel clicked on a small tactical penlight.

The narrow beam of white light cut through the darkness, hitting Caleb’s face.