The silence of the eighth day was broken not by the wind or the settling of the house, but by a sound that made Briar’s soul leap through her skin.
It was the sat-phone.
It didn't ring with a melodic chime or a gentle vibration. It screamed with a harsh, electronic urgency, a jagged pulse of sound that sliced through the stillness of the kitchen. Briar had been standing at the counter, mindlessly polishing the same spot on the walnut wood, but she moved with a desperation that sent her chair skidding backward.
Her hands shook so violently she almost dropped the device. The screen showed a string of encrypted zeros- no name, no location, just a digital ghost.
She swiped the screen, her thumb nearly slipping on the glass. "Victor?"
For a second, there was nothing but the sound of
