Danny's POV
The silence in my study was absolute, the kind of heavy, expensive stillness that usually felt like a victory. I sat at my mahogany desk, the amber liquid in my glass catching the glow of the desk lamp, reflecting the $5,000 transaction still pending on my screen. He hadn’t sent it back. My heart had done a slow, triumphant roll at that, a small, golden tether still holding him to me.
Then, at 1:04 AM, the phone screamed.
I didn’t recognize the number. I almost let it ring out, but a cold, instinctual prickle climbed the back of my neck.
"Hello?"
"It’s me... Erica..." The voice was a jagged mess, a frenzy of static and sobbing. "We’re at the hospital. St. Jude’s. Danny... he got hit. A car... he’s unconscious, Mr. Chad. There’s so much blood..."
The glass didn't just sli
