The voice was like a bucket of ice water that burned hotter than a car engine. It was smooth, low, and terrifyingly calm. It began as a mere background hum, but the moment it turned serious, every other sound simply ceased to exist.
Lana wouldn't have been able to forget that voice even in her dreams.
Now that she thought about it, Arabella was the only reason Jacob had let her walk away at the club. Despite knowing his daughter was rescuing the very girl he wanted dead, he hadn't dared to lay a finger on Lana while Arabella was watching.
Lana swallowed hard, standing paralyzed beside the weary figure of the chief. Outside, the sun had started to sink toward the horizon, bleeding orange across the sky, but inside the station, the world had already felt dark.
"I... I haven't had the chance," she answered slowly into the receiver, her voice lagging behind the frantic race of her thoughts.
