Daniel’s words still hung in the air like smoke, thick and bitter. "Daniel, I’m sorry," I whispered, the words feeling small and useless.
"Sorry doesn't fix a broken war, Jane," he replied, his voice flat. He stared out at the concrete pillars, his fingers drummed a restless, angry rhythm on the steering wheel.
We didn't have long to sit in our shared misery. The burner phone in my pocket, the one I had used to call the journalist began to vibrate. The sound was like a hornet’s nest in the quiet car. Daniel’s eyes snapped to mine. I pulled the phone out, my heart doing a slow, painful roll in my chest.
It was a video call. Unknown number.
I pressed 'accept' with a trembling thumb. The screen flickered to life, and my breath left me in a sharp gasp. I saw a small, windowless room with p
