Lennox's POV
I thought about it. If I walked into the pack house right now, people would scream. Some would call it a miracle. Some would fall on their knees. Some would ask questions.
And if the one who wanted me dead was in that house… they would panic Or try to finish the job.
No. That was not the way.
I needed answers first. Proof. A plan.
"Golden," I said calmly. "Give me your phone."
He frowned. "My phone?"
"Yes."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device. He placed it in my hand carefully, like it was something fragile.
The screen lit up. I stared at it for a moment, then pressed in a number I remembered very well. A number I had not called in a long time.
It rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Come on.
On the fourth ring, someone picked up.
A deep voice answered, sharp but sleepy. "Who is this?"
My throat tightened. "Uncle Damien… it is me. Lennox. Please do not shout. Do not react. Do not let anyone know it is me."
