Claire’s POV
"Pick up, damn you," I whisper, my thumb slamming the screen.
The bathroom door sits ten feet away. Behind the thick wood, the heavy rush of the bath faucet suddenly dies. A quiet splash follows. The useless Omega is finally in the tub. I have five minutes, maybe less, before she catches me.
The line rings twice. The speaker crackles.
"This better be good news," Alpha Ezekiel London barks.
His voice is raw gravel. It hooks into my chest and pulls. I press the phone so hard against my ear that the plastic clicks against my tooth. My eyes stay glued to the bottom crack of the bathroom door. No shadows move.
"The water is running," I say, my voice a jagged scrape. "She is locked away. We can talk."
"Really?" Ezekiel lets out a dry, sharp breath. "The little b***h is dead a
