EMMA
The penthouse felt like a tomb the moment the screen went black. The "vibration" Gabriel had taught me to find—that warm, rhythmic hum of connection—was suddenly drowned out by a high-pitched, screaming static of panic.
Sophie.
"He’s not going to kill her yet," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into that terrifyingly calm register he used right before something died. He didn't look at me. He was staring at the black laptop screen, his jaw set so tight I feared his teeth would shatter. "He’s using her as a lure. He wants us out of this fortress. He wants us on the street where he has the home-field advantage."
"We don't have a choice, Gabriel! That’s Sophie! She doesn't even know what you are—she thinks I’m on a f*****g yoga retreat in the Alps!" I was pacing now, my heels clicking
