The phone rings, abruptly pulling me out of my daze.
“Devil’s Sign. Andrew Lopez,” I say as I pick up.
Silence. Thick, suffocating silence that stretches beyond reason. My stomach tightens. A cold sweat trickles down my spine. Then a click, followed by a hiss.
A lighter.
My fingers clutch the receiver. No…
“It wasn’t easy to find you,” says a voice I know all too well.
My breath catches in my throat. Impossible. This isn’t real. Not him. Not now.
“Jace…” I whisper.
His name burns my tongue like poison. I shoot a panicked glance toward the back room door. Closed. Locked tight. A small relief. Arès must know nothing about this. He must never know.
“Why did you leave?” he asks in a slow, falsely curious tone.
A cold shock runs through my chest.
“And you stole from me,” he adds, voice turning mocking.“Naughty little dog.”
I curl slightly in my seat, as if a blow might fall on me any second.
“I… I’ll pay you back!” I say, struggling to control the tremor in my voice.
“It’s too late, Andrew,” he sighs, bored.“You disappeared. To this town, you’re already dead. But be a good dog and let’s finish this.”
I bite my lip. I knew it. I knew this day would come. But hearing it from his mouth knocks the wind out of me.
“I can give you more money,” I insist.“Please, Jace…”
A cold laugh reaches me, sharp as a knife. Then slow, rhythmic tapping, like fingers drumming on a wooden desk. I can almost see him, sitting comfortably, a smug smile on his lips.
“I’ve got enough cash. I don’t need your pathetic savings. You want mercy? You know I can’t afford to be weak.”
I close my eyes for a moment, fighting panic. My heart pounds violently against my ribs. I can’t breathe.
“Please, Jace… Let me come back. I’ll do whatever you want.”
My voice breaks. A wave of dizziness hits me. Anything but this void, this creeping terror inside me. Anything but waiting for the fatal blow without fighting.
But he doesn’t answer right away. And this silence terrifies me even more.
He knows where I am. This is no empty threat. He could already be a few steps from the studio. He could have sent someone. Or worse… he could go after Arès.
A wave of panic overwhelms me. I grip the desk, searching for an anchor, something real to keep me from falling apart.
“No,” he says simply.
I collapse in my chair. My stomach twists painfully. If he refuses to take me back, I have only one option left to protect Arès.
“Then don’t do anything at the studio,” I say, voice hollow and strangled.
“You dare set conditions?”
“It’s the last request of a dying man. Give me a time and a place. I’ll be there.”
