The tension in Callum's brow melted away like morning frost, and his secretary, ever the sharp one, wisely held his tongue.
His palm grew clammy against the phone—a slick, nervous sweat. In all his years, Callum had never felt this wound-up.
Maren didn't get an answer, so she pressed again, "Hello? Who are you looking for?"
Callum stiffened. The flicker of joy in his chest snuffed out in an instant.
Maren... she didn't recognize this number as his?
Sensing she was about to hang up, Callum shoved every other thought aside. "Maren, it's me."
The light up ahead flashed green, and the car surged forward again.
The streets blurred past in a dizzy rush, and Callum waited, heart hammering, for Maren's reply.
A long silence stretched from the other end before a single, flat word broke it.
