Adam had been staring at his phone for what felt like forever.
The screen had long since gone black, but his grip stayed firm—knuckles pale, jaw clenched. He replayed the call over and over in his mind. Sofia's voice had been cold. Detached. She said she was going to her old house. That she didn't want to be followed. That he should tell Caiden and the rest of the security detail to back off.
And then... nothing.
No goodbye. No sweet teasing.
Just silence.
Tristan glanced over from the armchair, setting down his whiskey. "Hey, you good?"
Adam didn't move for a second. Then he finally exhaled, his voice low. "She called me. Said she'd be at her old place. Told me to pull security back."
Tristan raised a brow. "That's... odd."
Adam nodded slowly. "She sounded off. Like she was holding something back. And every time she goes to that house—when she's upset, or confused, or trying to calm herself—it means something's wrong."
