Zane's brow darkened as he roughly peeled her fingers away. "Know your place."
The moment he spoke, the door flew open, and his assistant rushed in with a face as pale as chalk. "Zane, thank God you are here. I have called you a dozen times. The bombing victim is your daughter."
The words hit Zane like a sledgehammer and left a deafening buzz in his skull. His lips moved soundlessly before he choked out, "What did you just say? This is some sick joke. I am the best bomb specialist alive. My kid does not die in explosions."
The assistant shoved the case file forward with shaking hands. "It is true, Zane. There is no mistake. And headquarters is gunning for you because someone reported you."
Zane grabbed the documents, and his daughter's school photo smiled up at him. The room spun like
