"I... I understand!"
Victor Zane stammered into the phone, his voice barely a whisper. He ended the call with trembling fingers and shoved the mobile device deep into his pocket, as if hiding the evidence of his own terror.
A sensation of absolute, glacial cold started at the soles of his Italian leather shoes, shot up through his spine, and exploded in his brain like a flash grenade. It was the chill of the grave.
Internally, Victor was screaming. A stream of profanity looped in his mind, directed entirely at his sworn brother, Ted Wolfe, who was currently cowering in a locked Rolls-Royce outside.
You fat coward! You useless pig! Victor raged silently. You couldn't have told me earlier? You wait until I am standing face-to-face with Him? Until I have already offended Him? How am I sup
