Ezekiel’s POV
"Pick up the phone, you little b***h," I muttered to the glowing screen.
The digital numbers on my desk clock changed to 12:04 AM. My fingers wrapped tight around the silver casing of my phone. The metal felt ice cold against my sweating palm. I stared at Iris’s name on the display. Three rings had already passed. The line hummed with heavy static. Four rings. She was stalling. I could feel it through the network, the sheer resistance from her end, a desperate attempt to show power she did not have. My jaw tight, I pressed the speaker button.
"Did you silently curse me out before picking up?" I asked, keeping my voice smooth, light, completely empty of the rage building in my throat.
Silence answered. I did not hear words, but I heard the sharp, ragged intake of her breat
