Trapped by the mob
Daphne's POV
“Call the cops!” Mom’s voice sliced through the haze of my panic, sharp and urgent.
I fumbled in my pockets, my fingers shaking. It was empty. My phone. I’d left it at Troy’s penthouse, forgotten in my rush to sneak out. “Your phone, Mom,” I said, my voice trembling as another bang rattled the front door, the wood groaning under the force.
She pointed to the small table in the living room, where her old flip phone sat beside a vase of daisies. I reached for it, my pulse hammering in my ears, drowning out the shouts outside of angry voices, and a crowd calling for me. Someone was trying to break in, the door shuddering with each of his blow. Where were the patrol cars that usually cruised this street? Why wasn’t anyone stopping them? My hands shook so bad
