I stared at the words until they blurred.
I know everything.
"Who sent it?" Damian's voice was tight beside me, his hand already reaching for the phone.
"I don't know." My thumb hovered over the screen, afraid to touch it, like the message might reach through the glass and grab me. "It's not a number I recognize."
"Neither did the last one," he said quietly. "The one who called you about the account."
I looked up at him. "You think it's the same person."
"I think we should find out before we decide whether to be afraid of them or grateful to them."
My hands were shaking, but I typed anyway.
Who is this?
Three small dots appeared, then vanished, then appeared again, like whoever was on the other end was choosing their words as carefully as I had chosen mine.
Someone who has watche
